Aftermath
by AnnabethLuna
Summary: WARNING BLOOD OF OLYMPUS SPOILERS. READ NO FURTHER IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE SPOILED. Percy and Annabeth have come out of Tartarus to join the rest of the Argo II in their mission to defeat Gaea. But they can't get Tartarus out of their heads. This is Percy and Annabeth in BoO, in which they struggle with the crippling memories of Tartarus and try to learn how to function again.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so here's the thing.**

**I cannot be the only person who was really, really disappointed with the way Percy and Annabeth were portrayed in Blood of Olympus. It made them into side characters who, compared to the rest, were ****_utterly_**** incompetent.**

**I choose to put this down to Tartarus trauma. But since we didn't have their POVs, there's no way to know if that's true. And their portrayal in this - the ****_last book _****of a series in which they both played pivotal roles - was tremendously disappointing.**

**So, this story is the scenes in which they appear - plus a few extras - told from their perspective. This is my attempt to rectify the wrongs that (I feel) were done to their characters in the book.**

**I liked the book, yes. But I did not like the way my favorite characters were portrayed in it.**

**This story is canon. I will not be changing any dialogue, or any characters. I do not want to take away from the amazingness that is Piper, Jason, Hazel, Frank, Nico, Reyna, or Leo.**

**But, I do want to give Percy and Annabeth their due.**

**So, this.**

**...**

Annabeth hated the plan.

It wasn't that the plan was bad. It was a good plan – after all, Annabeth herself had helped to concoct it. And it was rare that she hated her own plans, but this one –

She'd just returned from Tartarus. She and Percy had gotten a few days back in the light, back with the crew of the ship. A few days to recover – but they couldn't have as long as she'd wanted to. To be fair, no time would have been long enough.

But the Seven didn't have the luxury of any time at all. Gaea was going to wake in days' time, and it wasn't like she and Percy could spend days – weeks – months – in the tropics, soaking up the sun and letting it heal them. No, they had to jump right back into battle plans and preparing, and even though plans were Annabeth's forte, she wasn't ready.

Not to mention that if she were going to do any mission, she'd much rather have it be one where she could _fight_, could vent all the bitterness and anger she felt towards monsters and gods alike. She didn't want to have to dress in a pretty outfit, pin her hair back in a fancy style, and pretend that she was _delighted_ to be serving awful old ghost suitors who shouldn't be here in the first place.

Nevertheless, that was what she was doing right now, and she _hated_ it.

The only one who might possibly hate this plan more than she did was Jason, and that was only because he was cloaked in Mist thick enough to make him look and feel like an old man. The way he groaned and wheezed as they picked their way up the path showed that he wasn't the biggest fan of this plan, either. Nonetheless, Annabeth still felt prickly with irritation, like no one could possibly hate this plan more than she did.

"Almost there," said Piper soothingly. "You're doing great."

Of the three of them on this mission, Annabeth envied Piper the most. She looked comfortable and lovely in her white dress and perfect hair – as much as she might like to deny it, Piper had been born to wear beautiful clothes and make people fall for her. Not to mention her charmspeak. She was the best actress in the group, for the simple reason that she was able to persuade anyone of anything.

Annabeth tried not to be irritated with her friend. It wasn't Piper's fault that Annabeth felt so uncomfortable and angry all the time. It wasn't Piper's problem that dark thoughts swirled constantly in Annabeth's brain, that she had barely slept a wink since she'd escaped Tartarus, that she wanted to be anywhere but here, wearing anything but this gown that screamed _subservient_, _charming_, _carefree_.

Not to mention that she felt so jumpy all the time, not safe anywhere, not even in her own head –

Jason stopped suddenly, slumped against a tree. "Worst. Idea. Ever." He gasped for air. "Hazel's magic is too good. If I have to fight, I'll be useless."

"It won't come to that." The irrational part of Annabeth, the bitter part, almost wanted it to. But she was a child of Athena, and her logic was stronger. She knew that fighting would be a bad idea, and even if it meant she had to suck up to some greedy, lecherous suitor ghosts, it was what she'd have to do. "We infiltrate the palace, we get the information that we need, and we _get out._" Instinctively, she groped for where her dagger would have been sheathed, and remembered – yet again – that it wasn't there. Something stabbed uncomfortably at her heart. She'd had that dagger for forever. And yes, she had her new sword, and she'd prize it forever as a memory of Damasen. But she'd always preferred fighting with a knife, and with the loss of her dagger she felt as though the last remnant of Luke was truly gone from her.

Well, except for sometimes. Except for those times when she looked into Percy's eyes and saw Luke looking back instead.

She swallowed, and focused on Piper, who was lowering her amphora to the ground. "We can rest for a second. Catch your breath, Jason."

Annabeth set her amphora down, too, as Jason gulped in air, muttering something under his breath. She didn't like not moving. It was when she was still that the memories would start catching up to her. To distract herself, she cast her gaze around, trying not to remember that her eyes, too, were not constants.

_It was a curse,_ she reminded herself. _You're not blind._

"You sure this is the right hill?" Jason's voice yanked her thankfully out of her thoughts. "Seems kind of . . . I don't know, quiet."

Piper reassured him, and Annabeth listened, still looking around. She couldn't tell if the uneasiness she felt was because of the suitors ahead, or if it was just a residual effect of Tartarus. She felt uneasy all the time, really. There was nothing special about today.

"I hope our disguises hold up." Better to turn her attention to practical concerns. "The suitors were nasty customers when they were alive. If they find out we're demigods" –

"Hazel's magic will work," promised Piper.

Annabeth didn't have as much experience with Hazel's Mist as the other two did, because, _oh yeah_, she'd been hanging out with her boyfriend _in the depths of Tartarus_. At least Coach Hedge hadn't tried to ground them before he left – though neither of them would have stood for it at this point.

But that was beside the point. She decided to trust them.

"Well, if I look as old as I feel, my disguise must be perfect. Let's get going." Jason broke Annabeth out of her train of thought again.

She led the way, with Jason safe in the middle and Piper bringing up the rear. They climbed in silence for a few more moments, until the crest of the hill was in sight.

"Almost there," she remarked. "Let's" –

The loud rumble cut her off, and she flinched. Then she realized it was just the suitors.

"What was that explosion?" came Jason's voice from behind her.

"Don't know, but it sounds like they're having fun." Piper set a hand on Jason's shoulder as Annabeth turned. "Let's go make some dead friends."

...

When they arrived at the palace, Annabeth thought she was seeing double.

She could see the ruins, the broken-down remains of the palace. But over it, she could see the image of what the palace had once been, the walls and the fountain and the tables, and the _suitors._

Hundreds of suitors, ghosts, milling around, laughing, running, chasing serving maidens – Annabeth swallowed back a gag of disgust – it was a party, and it was revolting. Annabeth knew that the suitors were horrible alive and dead, but she couldn't help the anger that swelled up in her. She'd just escaped the depths of Tartarus and these ghosts were celebrating and gorging themselves and just – ugh.

"That guy just disintegrated my dad." Annabeth knew Jason wasn't a huge fan of his father, but she noticed the indignation in his voice. "Who does he think he is?"

Annabeth looked for the ghost and noticed the arrow in his neck. "I'm guessing that's Antinous, one of the suitors' leaders. If I remember right, it was Odysseus who shot him through the neck with that arrow." Right about now, she would have been happy to repeat the action, but she knew it would completely defeat her purpose.

"You'd think that would keep a guy down," muttered Piper. "What about all the others? Why are there so many?"

Annabeth shrugged. "I don't know. Newer recruits for Gaea, I guess. Some must've come back to life before we closed the Doors of Death. Some are just spirits." She remembered that ghastly elevator ride with Percy, all of her strength going into holding the doors closed –

"Some are ghouls," Jason added. "The ones with the gaping wounds and the gray skin, like Antinous . . . I've fought their kind before."

"Can they be killed?" Piper started messing with her hair.

"Not easily. They're strong and fast and intelligent. Also, they eat human flesh."

"Fantastic." Annabeth couldn't fight the bitterness in her voice. "I don't see any option except to stick to the plan. Split up, infiltrate, find out why they're here. If things go bad" –

"We use the backup plan," Piper finished.

They stood there in silence for a moment, gazing down at the ghouls. Then, Jason took a deep breath. "Be careful down there," he said, and they parted.

...

It was easy to slip into the crowd. Annabeth just joined a few specters and pretended she was one of them. Piper was already in character, pouring wine for the ghouls and charming them with her voice and her smile. For as reluctant as she'd started out, the girl had learned how to work her beauty.

Annabeth, on the other hand, had no interest in being charming. She wasn't as tolerant – or as good an actress – as Piper. If any of these ghosts tried _any_ flirting with her, she couldn't be held responsible for what she might do. So she set to work taking their plates – a job which required much less interaction.

She tried to take in details of their surroundings so she'd be ready for a fight, and tried not to think about how much she wanted Percy here right now.

He'd wanted to come with them, but it made more sense for him to stay back. Three was the optimal number for a quest, and he had to watch the sea, anyway. He'd tried to talk Annabeth out of going, to convince her to send someone else, but she'd put on a brave face. "I can survive without you for a day, Seaweed Brain," she'd teased.

"Of course you can," was his reply. "You're Annabeth. You can do everything. But I still worry."

"I know." She'd kissed him. "But I'll come back to you. You know that."

Annabeth didn't want to be codependent. She'd never wanted to be in one of those relationships where she couldn't function without the other person. But she'd always been at her best when Percy was by her side, and after Tartarus she liked being apart even less.

She snapped out of it, jerking her mind back into the present. With one half of her brain, she paid attention to Jason and the conversation he was having with the ghosts. With most of the remaining half, she kept an eye on Piper, who was doing just fine. Gathering empty plates was easy enough that it required almost no concentration. And focusing on other things kept her mind off of Tartarus and Percy.

Suddenly, she noticed that the Mist around Jason was thinning. He was probably wavering, weakening the power of the magic. He needed a distraction, needed to snap out of it, and fast.

Annabeth grabbed a pitcher of wine out of the hand of the nearest spectral girl. The girl complained, but one of the suitors wrapped an arm around her and she squealed. Her lip curling in disgust, Annabeth turned towards Jason.

As she approached, she did her best to plaster a sweet smile on her face. It probably looked more like a grimace, but she approached Antinous anyway. "More wine, my lord?" She dumped the pitcher onto his neck. "Oops!" She tried to giggle girlishly.

The ghoul let out a cry. "Foolish girl! Who let you back from Tartarus?"

"A Titan, my lord." Annabeth's insides clenched at the truth of her words. _The best one that ever was._ "May I bring you some moist towelettes? Your arrow is dripping."

"Begone!"

Annabeth did her best to give Jason an encouraging look, and then went to continue her duties.

She couldn't hear everything that Jason was saying, but she heard enough – and the rest, she trusted Jason to remember. He was the main player here. She was just part of the plan.

But when Jason prepared to leave, she took notice. She started scanning the area, figuring out the best place to slip out in Jason's wake – and then the ghost of Michael Varus said, "Wait. You must stay."

Annabeth froze, her stomach curling.

"What's the problem, legionnaire?" asked Antinous. "If Iros wants to leave, let him. He smells bad!"

Annabeth's whole body went tense. She was standing right beside the serving platter – her hand closed around a carving knife. It wasn't her dagger, but it would do.

"I lost my cohort _twice_ in Alaska," mused Varus. "Once in life, once in death to a _Graecus _named Percy Jackson." Annabeth's gut twisted at the name. "Still I have come here to answer Gaia's call. Do you know why?"

"Stubbornness?" suggested Jason, and he sounded so much like Percy that Annabeth almost smiled.

"It is a place of longing." Annabeth listened as the conversation continued, uneasiness building in her stomach. Something was going to happen, soon –

"Someone has come for you, Jason Grace," said Varus, and Annabeth could barely process the fact that their cover had been blown before Varus beckoned a ghost forward. A ghost who looked so much like one of Annabeth's best friends that her blood ran cold.

"My dearest," said the ghost – the ghost of Thalia's and Jason's mother, "you have come home."

Jason froze. His mouth gaped, he looked at the ghost, and Annabeth's heart suddenly ached for Thalia – though she knew the Hunter would want anything but to be here. "Dearest," the woman repeated, and Jason's disguise fell away, revealing him in all his glory.

"Mom?" His voice was lost and wavery.

"Yes, dearest. Come, embrace me."

"You're you're – not real."

"Of course she is real." Annabeth wanted to punch Varus. "Did you think Gaia would let such an important spirit languish in the Underworld? She is your mother, Beryl Grace," – so now Annabeth knew Thalia's mother's name; the other girl had never told her – "star of television, sweetheart to the king of Olympus, who rejected her not once but twice, in both his Greek and Roman aspects. She deserves justice as much as any of us."

Jason looked frozen, under a spell. Piper broke it with her voice. "Jason, look at me. That isn't your mother. Her voice is working some kind of magic on you – like charmspeak, but more dangerous. Can't you sense it?"

"She's right." Annabeth didn't like being down here, surrounded; she wanted a better view. Kicking at a plate – the loud noise seemed to bring Jason to his senses – she hoisted herself onto the table. "Jason, that's only a remnant of your mother, like an _ara_, maybe, or" –

Jason snapped out of it. He made his stand, remembered who he was. He spoke to Varus, belittled him. Annabeth tensed up, knowing the suitors were ready to attack. But Piper interrupted again, before they could fight. "Beware! Every man in this palace is your enemy! Each one will stab you in the back at the first chance."

They all knew it was true; the suitors began to eye one another with unease. Annabeth kept her eyes on them as Jason spoke to his mother. Annabeth saw Thalia's old bitterness in her brother's eyes.

"You're a _mania_," he said, and Annabeth knew he was right. "A spirit of insanity. That's what you've been reduced to."

"I am all that remains," confirmed the ghost. "Embrace me, son. I am all that you have left."

Suddenly, Jason's eyes were on Annabeth – so much like his sister's that it hurt. "No," he said, and his voice was strong. "My loyalties haven't changed. My family has just expanded." Annabeth flashed back to Thalia, telling her and Luke that they were a family better than hers had been. "I'm a child of Greece and Rome – I'm no child of yours."

He made the sign warding off evil, and his mother disappeared.

But it wasn't over. Annabeth kept her eyes on the suitors.

"Well, then, I guess we'll just kill you," remarked Antinous offhandedly, and the fight began.

...

In a strange sense, Annabeth was almost relieved.

Her nerves had been humming the whole time, her whole body taut with unease. It felt good to break out of that and take action.

She brought her hand holding the carving knife up and hurled it as hard as she could, watching with a little satisfaction as it skewered one suitor right through the neck and pinned him up against the wall until he disintegrated. Her throw had been so hard that the knife stuck, trembling, in a little crevice of the wall. While the suitors in her immediate area glanced around, distracted, Annabeth drew her sword.

Grabbing one more carving knife from the serving platter, she leaped off the table, kicking a suitor in the head as she dropped to the ground. While he was dazed, she stabbed him with the knife.

She didn't wait around to watch him disintegrate. As a few more suitors charged her, she swept her sword out in a wide arc, vaporizing one after another. For every suitor that she cut down, she thought, _For Damasen. For Bob_.

A line of pain bit into her neck; she lashed out instinctively with her sword and turned just in time to see another ghost crumble into dust. A muffin flew over her head, and while one of the suitors was distracted, she sliced through him, too.

Soon enough, they had all fallen away to nothingness, and she stabbed the last one in the chest.

She turned to the others – just in time to see Jason drop to his knees, and hear Piper cry out his name.

He'd been skewered – stabbed right through the middle. For some reason, seeing the bleeding mortal wound made Annabeth think of Percy, with blood soaking through his shirt on both sides, after cutting down the _arai_ –

No. This wasn't Percy, this was Jason, and he was – he was – "Gods," choked Annabeth. "Oh, gods."

"Thanks – I was afraid it might be bad."

"You're going to be fine." Piper's charmspeak seemed to convince Jason, but it didn't affect Annabeth. She was too busy staring at the wound and panicking and trying to remember where she was – "Annabeth, ambrosia!"

"Yeah." Annabeth almost tripped over her tongue. "Yeah, I got it." She pulled it out of her pouch and started breaking off little pieces. Piper was bandaging Jason; Annabeth fed him the ambrosia and was heartened by the color that crept back into his face.

Still, if he was dying –

"Jason, I'm sorry," she stammered. "About your mom. But the way you handled it . . . that was so brave."

"It wasn't her," he murmured. "At least, no part of her I could save. But there was no other choice."

Annabeth bit her lip, tried not to see Luke's face in her mind. "No other _right_ choice, maybe, but, a . . . friend of mine." What else could she call him? "Luke. His mom . . ." She broke off again, fingers clenching around a dagger that wasn't there. "Similar problem. He didn't handle it as well."

She choked off, remembering Luke's bitterness – a bitterness that she and Percy were also starting to feel.

Piper broke her out of her thoughts. "I've bandaged as much as I can – blood is still soaking through. And the smoke – I don't get that."

"Imperial gold. It's deadly to demigods." Annabeth didn't want another friend to die on her. She was already thinking about Luke, she'd lost Bob and Damasen and Silena and – "It's only a matter of time before" –

"He'll be all right." Piper's charmspeak was so strong it almost convinced Annabeth. "We've got to get him back to the ship."

Annabeth's mind started racing as the other two talked. How could they do that? If they – no, that wouldn't work. The backup plan? "We could use the emergency flares" –

"No." Jason was right. "Leo would blast the top of the hill with Greek fire. Maybe if you guys helped me, I could walk" –

"Absolutely not. That would take too long." Piper pulled a mirror out of her pouch. "Annabeth, you know Morse code?"

"Of course." She'd taught herself when she was six, and laughed when the others in the Athena cabin told her they were going to teach her an important skill.

"So does Leo. He'll be watching from the ship." Piper pressed the mirror into Annabeth's hand. "Go to the ridge" –

"And flash him!" Annabeth's mind had been racing so hard she'd forgotten a few words – she felt her cheeks heat up. "That came out wrong. But yeah, good idea."

At the ridge, she glanced up at the sun, calculated the angle, and held the mirror at just the right spot to create a flash of light on the Argo II. _Jason hurt,_ she spelled out. _Need help._

Then she waited.

The answer came in the form of light rays hitting the ground right in front of her. _Dragonman on way. Stretcher needed._

Annabeth sighed. _Leo_.

_Okay_, she responded, and turned away without waiting for a response.

When she walked back, her ankle throbbed. Part of her wondered if she'd messed it up forever – she was pretty sure that _splint it with Bubble Wrap and then journey through the deepest pits of the Underworld_ wasn't exactly on any doctor's orders for what to do with a broken ankle. Now, though, whenever she was worried about something she felt the pain and remembered running from spiders and demons on that foot.

"Are you hurt?" was the first thing Jason said, and she almost shook her head. He was dying, and was worried about her?

"It's fine – just the old break from the Roman caverns. Sometimes when I'm stressed" – Why was she rambling about this? They didn't need to know about her stupid phantom pains. "That's not important. I signaled Leo. Frank's going to change form, fly up here and carry you back to the ship. I need to make a litter to keep you stable."

She started rummaging among the ruins, gathering every bit of weaving material she could find, and started working. For a moment she'd been afraid that that aptitude she'd briefly found had deserted her – but as soon as she laid hands on the material, she knew what to do. The stretcher began to take shape under her hands.

"How are you doing that?" Jason's awe made Annabeth feel good, but she couldn't focus on that.

"Learned it during my quest under Rome. I'd never had a reason to try weaving before, but it's handy for certain things, like getting away from spiders . . ." She trailed off, finishing up.

Piper let out a low whistle. "The next time I need a dress altered, I'm coming to you."

"Shut up, McLean." Annabeth tried to fight back her pride. "Now, let's get him secured" –

"Wait." Jason cut her off. "A bed. There was a special bed in this palace."

"Jason," Piper tried to say, "you've lost a lot of blood . . ."

"I'm not hallucinating. The marriage bed was sacred. If there was any place you could talk to Juno . . ." He inhaled. "Juno!"

If Jason _wanted_ to talk to Hera, Annabeth wouldn't have been surprised if he had been hallucinating. She couldn't imagine anyone actually desiring to talk to that cow. Pun intended.

But unfortunately for her, Jason's summons had worked. Queen Life-Wrecker appeared in all her glory. "My heroes."

"Hera," said Piper.

"Juno."

Annabeth didn't care about correctness. "Whatever. What are you doing here, Your Bovine Majesty?"

"Annabeth Chase." Annabeth's immortal enemy glared at her. "As charming as ever."

Annabeth was _not_ going to be talked down to by this most annoying of goddesses. "Yeah, well, I just got back from _Tartarus_, so my manners are a little rusty. Especially towards goddesses who wiped my boyfriend's memory, made him disappear for months and then" –

"Honestly, child. Are we going to rehash this again?"

Annabeth decided not to correct the goddess's grammar (_rehash_ and _again_ were redundant). "Aren't you supposed to be suffering from split-personality disorder – I mean, more so than usual?"

"Whoa." Jason cut her off, which was probably a good idea, although at this point Annabeth couldn't care less. "Juno, we need your help. We" – He sat up and almost fell over; Piper steadied him.

"First things first," said Piper commandingly. "Jason is hurt. Heal him!"

"Some things even the gods cannot heal," admitted Hera. "This wound touches your soul as well as your body. You must fight it, Jason Grace … you _must_ survive."

_Thanks for caring_, thought Annabeth viciously.

"Yeah, thanks," Jason echoed her thoughts. "I'm trying."

"What do you mean the wound touches his soul? Why can't you" –

Hera cut Piper off. "My heroes, our time is short. I am grateful that you called upon me. I have spent weeks in a state of pain and confusion . . . my Greek and Roman natures warring against each other. Worse, I've been forced to hide from Jupiter, who searches for me in his misguided wrath, believing that _I_ caused this war with Gaia."

"Gee." Annabeth tried to channel Percy. "Why would he think that?"

Hera glared, but didn't seem inclined to blast Annabeth. "Fortunately, this place is sacred to me. By clearing away those ghosts, you have purified it and given me a moment of clarity. I will be able to speak with you – if only briefly."

"Why is it sacred? Oh," Piper realized, "the marriage bed."

"Marriage bed?" Annabeth had probably known this story once, but lately she'd been skipping past Hera's name in every myth she read, she'd been so angry. "I don't see any" –

"The bed of Penelope and Odysseus. One of its bedposts was a living olive tree, so it could never be moved."

"Indeed." Juno touched the olive tree, and Annabeth felt as though a sacred symbol of her mother had been contaminated. Not that she was overjoyed with Athena lately, either . . . "An immovable marriage bed. Such a beautiful symbol! Like Penelope, the most faithful wife, standing her ground, fending off a hundred arrogant suitors for years because she knew her husband would return. Odysseus and Penelope – the epitome of a perfect marriage!"

Annabeth almost snorted. Because Odysseus definitely hadn't spent years living on Calypso's island. And those nonexistent years definitely had been spent doing harmless activities like playing chess and having philosophical discussions over milk and cookies.

"Can you advise us, at least?" asked Jason. "Tell us what to do?"

Annabeth held back another derisive snort. As if she was going to listen to Lady Mess-Everything-Up-For-Everyone if she even gave them advice.

"Sail around the Peloponnese," Hera said. "As you suspect, that is the only possible route. On your way, seek out the goddess of victory in Olympia. She is out of control. Unless you can subdue her, the rift between Greek and Roman can never be healed."

"You mean Nike?" Despite herself, Annabeth's interest was piqued. "How is she out of control?"

Thunder rumbled in the sky. Evidently Annabeth wasn't the only one who wasn't pleased with Hera.

"Explaining would take too long," said Hera, as if she weren't secretly pleased to be withholding information from Annabeth. "I must flee before Jupiter finds me. Once I leave, I will not be able to help you again."

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"What else should we know?" asked Jason, who seemed to be better at appeasing obnoxious goddesses than Annabeth was.

"As you heard, the giants have gathered in Athens. Few gods will be able to help you on your journey, but I am not the only Olympian who is out of favor with Jupiter. The twins have also incurred his wrath."

Annabeth wasn't surprised about Apollo, but she did think Artemis knew better than to incur Zeus's anger.

"Artemis and Apollo?" asked Piper. "Why?"

"If you reach the island of Delos, they might be prepared to help you. They are desperate enough to try anything to make amends. Go now. Perhaps we will meet again in Athens, if you succeed. If you do not . . ." Hera's voice faded away, and she shimmered and disappeared in a flash of rainbow light.

Annabeth wanted to punch the disappearing face, but she was distracted by Jason's tiny grunt-gasp. She looked down just in time to see his eyes roll back into his head, and he collapsed into Piper's arms.

There was a moment of silence as Hera faded completely away and Annabeth and Piper took in what had just happened. Then Piper screamed, "Jason!" and Annabeth snapped back to attention.

"Gods, no," she whispered. There was no way another friend was dying on her watch. She leaned forward and grabbed Jason's limp wrist, pressing her fingers to it. It was there: faint, but steady. A pulse.

"We have to get him back to the ship," she said. "I don't know if there's much more we can do for him, but Hera said this was a wound that touches his soul, too. That means as long as we can stabilize him, we can make it so that he can fight it himself."

"Okay." Piper still held Jason by the shoulders; Annabeth took hold of his legs and together they eased him onto the stretcher she'd woven. Piper leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Jason Grace," she said in a fierce whisper, "you are _not_ dying on me. You're going to stay right here with me."

He didn't stir, but Annabeth swore his pulse was a little stronger.

A dark shadow crossed over their heads, and they turned to look up. Frank the dragon flew overhead, swooping down to land next to them. He transformed seamlessly, and as always Annabeth got a little shock when she saw how different he looked; how much taller and stronger and more confident. It made her feel like she'd been in Tartarus for years instead of days. As if she didn't already feel that way.

"Hey," Frank said – then he glanced down at Jason. "_Dang_ – that looks bad. Is he going to be okay?"

"Yes," Piper said so strongly that Annabeth believed her. "We just have to get him back to the ship and to the infirmary."

Frank smiled. "Well, then, Dragon Zhang is at your service."

Despite everything, Annabeth smiled back. "Then, Dragon Zhang, let's get you hitched up."

Soon enough, Frank was soaring into the sky with Jason's stretcher held firmly in his claws. Annabeth and Piper had to hike back down – but without Old Man Jason, the walk was much quicker. Annabeth still limped slightly, occasionally hitting a rock wrong and rolling her ankle painfully, but she didn't let it slow her down.

At the bottom of the hill, Leo had lowered the ship to the ground so that they could easily climb aboard. No one was there to greet them, so they shared a glance and headed straight for the infirmary.

_Everyone_ was there, crowded around the bed where Jason lay, still unconscious. Hazel was trickling nectar into his mouth, and Leo was standing by, shifting from one foot to the other and tapping a screwdriver against his thigh. Frank sat in the corner, catching his breath. Annabeth supposed flying was a lot more tiring than walking.

Percy, though, went straight for Annabeth.

"Hey." He caught her arms, tugged her into an embrace. "You okay?" He looked at her neck, where blood from her cut had dried, crusting onto the edges of her dress. "You're hurt."

"Oh, this?" Annabeth had almost forgotten about that cut; now that he had mentioned it, it began to sting. But she didn't have the energy to take care of it right now. "It's fine. Just shallow." She leaned against Percy, glad to take the weight off her bad foot. "Hazel, stop." Hazel froze, and turned to her.

"We already gave him a bunch of ambrosia back there," she elaborated. "Too much nectar, and he might burn up. I think" – she hesitated. "Hera said it was a wound he'd have to fight, or something. I think there's only so much we can do."

"Hera, as in Goddess-Babysitter-Lady?" Leo's brows knitted together, and his screwdriver-tapping increased in tempo. "You ran into her?"

"Yes." Annabeth sighed, suddenly exhausted, and laid her head on Percy's shoulder, feeling as though she could sleep right there. "And she was as awful as ever, before you ask. Vague and haughty. But she said we should go around the Peloponnese. There's more, too – that we learned from the suitors. But" – She glanced at Piper, who was sitting beside Jason with his hand in hers and her eyes fixed on his face. "We'll tell you later. For now, give us a few hours to rest, okay?"

Leo looked like he wanted to protest, but Percy spoke up. "That's fine," he said. "We'll reconvene at dinner, hopefully Jason will be awake then, and you guys can tell us everything that happened."

Slowly, the group dispersed. Piper stayed with Jason, though, fingers still laced in his and eyes that seemed to be willing him back to life. Annabeth thought about staying, but Percy tugged on her hand and she went with him willingly.

They went to his cabin, sat on the bed, leaning against each other. Annabeth fought the waves of exhaustion washing through her. It had just been one fight – she'd fought worse and harder before. In Tartarus, especially . . . She winced.

"Still thinking about it?" Percy's voice was gravelly. He slid his fingers through hers and began to absentmindedly stroke circles on her hand with his thumb.

"Of course. How could I not?"

"I know." Percy sighed, rested his head against hers. "Stupid question, but I had to ask."

"How'd you handle today? Any threats?"

"None. Just a few hours of Frank teaching Hazel how to play Mythomagic and Leo being Leo." Percy's fingers stilled for a moment, and then started moving faster. "And of course, worrying out of my mind. I don't like not having you in sight. It makes me feel so helpless – like I'm dropping the ball."

"You're not dropping the ball," she chided. "I'm slapping it out of your hands." Percy chuckled, and she smiled, too. "I can do it, Seaweed Brain. Don't doubt me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"No," she exhaled, leaning against him again, "but I know what you mean. I keep having these flashbacks, where I just – something triggers something else, and then I'm remembering things, and thinking they're going to happen again – I just feel really jumpy all the time. You know?"

"Yeah."

They were silent for a little longer, and then Annabeth felt a laugh bubbling up inside her. "Did Frank teach you how to play Mythomagic, too?"

"He tried. Eventually I gave up."

"You should learn how. You could play with Nico next time we see him."

"Nico . . ." Percy's voice trailed off. Annabeth knew he'd felt a personal responsibility for Nico ever since Bianca had died. Not to mention he'd experienced the horrors of Tartarus alone – and they owed him their lives. It was hard to think how he was risking his right now. "Do you know what's been going on with him? He always seems so angry."

Annabeth shook her head, bumping it against Percy's neck. "I really don't." She no longer thought he liked her – after seeing how he behaved towards her, so coolly but guarded at the same time, she thought there was something else instead, but she didn't know what it was. "But I hope that whatever it is, it gets better." She thought about Reyna, then. She'd felt such a kinship with Reyna right away – both daughters of strategists, both knowing what it felt like to be a leader, and both understanding what it was to be lonely. The difference was that she'd gotten Percy in the end, and Reyna was still alone. Annabeth hoped that everything was going well with her and Nico.

"Me, too," agreed Percy. He tilted his head to the side, catching Annabeth off-guard in a kiss. She relaxed into him, feeling her whole body go limp.

When they broke apart, Annabeth lay down on Percy's bed and pulled him down with her. They tried to stay apart at night, for the most part, what with Leo's screaming, Coach-Hedge-channeling table, but whenever she was alone in bed she lay awake for hours on end, fearing the nightmares that would claim her as soon as she closed her eyes. Lying in bed with Percy reminded her of the one time in Tartarus that she'd felt safe: in Damasen's little hut, with the smell of drakon-meat stew filling the air.

"I want to sleep, Seaweed Brain," she mumbled, barely able to think through her tiredness. "Help me sleep."

"Gladly," he whispered, pulling her closer. Wrapped in his warmth, Annabeth's unease began to slip away, and she drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

Percy couldn't believe it.

He absolutely _could not believe_ that one metal Nike supporter had almost brought him down. He had always been able to hold his own in a fight. He'd battled _Ares_ when he was twelve. And a little training with the Romans had only made him better, even if he was a little out of practice.

But he'd been in that arena, trying to fight Nike, and he'd heard Hazel cry out in pain – and suddenly he wasn't in that arena anymore. He was back in Tartarus, back in the deepest depths of the Underworld, and it wasn't Hazel crying out, it was Annabeth. She was weaponless and in danger, and even though she could fight fine, she didn't have a blade that would allow her to actually defeat her enemies. Percy's sword had to suffice for both of them, and he couldn't be in two places at once –

And then when he shook himself out of it, and went to defend Hazel, it was just too much. It was another spirit, or god, or monster, or _something_, it was another girl who was so important to him who was hurt. What was the difference between a Nik-whatever it was and an _ara_ anyway?

He knew it wasn't real – somewhere back in the corner of his mind, he knew it wasn't real. But talking about Calypso and remembering her curse had brought it to the forefront for Percy, and he'd let Tartarus overcome him. It was never far from his thoughts, and he'd let it sneak in before going into battle. So when the Nikette started attacking him, he'd been lost in the memories of the _arai_. Hazel wasn't Hazel, she was Annabeth, blind and abandoned and needing his help – help that he _couldn't give._

He forgot that he could fight, he forgot that he was _good_ – the memories overcame him and he went numb.

It wasn't until Leo and Hazel attacked that Percy remembered where he was, remembered that he wasn't helpless. He remembered that he wasn't dying of gorgon's blood poison, and remembered that Damasen had cured him of that –

Oh, gods. Damasen.

_Bob._

So Percy wasn't feeling good when they returned to the ship, dragging a bundled-up goddess in their wake. Bundled up no thanks to Percy. Leo and Hazel had saved the day, really. Frank had gagged the goddess. All Percy had done was make some water explode. Hardly heroic. Hardly what he should be doing.

He was getting to the point where he hated being a hero. For awhile it had been amazing – he'd thought that he'd found a real home, where people liked him, respected him, depended on him. He was the hero of Olympus, after all, and if he didn't want all the fanfare at least he knew he'd done something worthwhile in his life.

But now –

Now the gods had dragged him into _another_ quest, another stupid prophecy, had wrecked his whole life to do it, and had eventually thrown him into the deepest pit of the Underworld – where gods themselves didn't even go. And maybe the gods hadn't actually thrown him down there – but if Hera hadn't kidnapped him, none of it would have ever happened.

Percy was a pawn. He was being used, and he _hated_ it.

He wasn't as far gone as Luke had been – he knew the gods were a better alternative, and he knew that some of them could be great when they wanted to. But he was getting sick of being dragged into their quests, forced to run their stupid errands – and none of them really cared what happened to him in the process.

So they trudged back to the ship with their bound goddess in tow, and Percy walked back in silence, alternating between anger at the gods and guilt at his own helplessness (the same helplessness, by the way, that had led to the death of Bob and Damasen, brave and loyal friends), and they climbed onto the ship with Nike on the back of Frank the elephant, and Annabeth was there.

She took one look at his face and pulled him into her cabin. Percy stood uncertainly in the door – he was long past Coach-Hedge rules, but he still didn't always know what to do with himself in Annabeth's space. She gave him a gentle shove towards her bed, and he sat on the edge of it and put his face in his hands.

She didn't sit; instead, she paced back and forth in front of him, seeming unable to calm down. Which was odd, because usually she had more control over her ADHD than any other demigod Percy had ever seen.

"Let me guess," she speculated, "something happened, and you weren't able to be the hero and save the day, and now you're feeling guilty and helpless."

She knew him so well it was scary.

"How'd you know?"

"Two reasons." She stopped moving, placed her hands gently on the sides of his face and pushed it up until he was meeting her eyes. "One, you're Percy Jackson, and you have the biggest hero complex of anyone I know. And two, how do you think I've been feeling for the last few days?"

He gave up and slumped backwards, lying flat on his back on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know what it is! It's just – something about it just _sticks_ with me, you know? And it won't go away, and it" –

"I know." She sat beside him, pressing a hand to his chest. Her touch was calming, soothing. "I know. It's in my head all the time, too. The craziest things trigger it. You know," she paused and he turned his head so he could look at her, "I sometimes – I sometimes think – despite everything – it was easier than I thought it would be. Not that it _was_, but – but I wasn't expecting to make it out alive."

"We wouldn't have," Percy muttered, bitterness seeping out of his heart and into his words, "if" –

"I know." Annabeth's gray eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I know. But still – we made it out. And it – I don't know. But now I know – part of the curse of Tartarus, I think, is that it doesn't go away."

"Maybe you're right." Percy didn't want to think that. He didn't want to think that he would be so useless for the rest of his life as a hero – didn't want to always suffer these crippling flashbacks, these triggers that just made him so _helpless_. "But I don't want you to be."

"I don't want to be, either."

"Annabeth Chase doesn't want to be right?" Percy couldn't help laughing, despite everything. "Must be the first time that's ever happened."

She hit him lightly. "Shut up." Her smile faded. "You know I don't want to be like this forever."

"I know." He groaned a little, his skin feeling tender and bruised all over. "I don't either. We were just – we were fighting these Nikettes" –

"You were fighting _what_?"

"Nikettes? Nik-somethings? Nike supporters."

"_Nikai_?" Annabeth chuckled, seeming to snap out of her gloom, at least for a moment. "Such a Seaweed Brain."

"Hey," he defended himself, "I didn't come up with the name. Leo did."

"As if that makes it better." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, tell."

He told.

As he did so, he felt the full weight of disappointment settle onto his shoulders. "Wow," he groaned, "I really messed up, didn't I?"

"No!" Annabeth was still sitting on the edge of her bed; she fumbled for his hand and held it. "Percy, you did great! You destroyed Nike's chariot, you fought _Nikai_, you helped _defeat_ the goddess of _victory_! Do you realize how ridiculous that is?"

"But I didn't – I couldn't" –

"Hey." She squeezed his hand. "I know how you feel. But it's okay. I understand completely what happened, and Percy" –

She broke off, leaned over, and kissed him, long and deep. "We're not there anymore," she reminded him. "I'm right here, and we're together, remember? No matter what happens, it's okay."

"But you weren't with me earlier!" he protested. "And I wasn't with you when you went with Jason, and – we're not going to be able to protect each other all the time, Annabeth! What happens when you're in danger, and I'm _not_ there? Like" – His voice broke. He remembered saying goodbye to her, letting her go on her quest to defeat Arachne. He remembered the spider silk wrapped around her bad foot, remembered that terrifying, terrifying instant when she'd slipped towards the edge of the cliff and he'd lunged for her hand, thought he wasn't going to get there in time –

It was stupid, maybe, but he still thought if he'd just gone with her to follow the Mark of Athena, none of it would have happened.

"We won't be together all the time, Seaweed Brain." The bedsprings squeaked as she lay down beside him, kissing his forehead. "But we will when it matters, okay?" She hugged him close. "Promise."

"Promise," he echoed, holding on tight.

He remembered dissolving in the River Styx, and then hearing Annabeth's voice and remembering who he was. He may have lost the Curse of Achilles, but she was still his anchor, his lifeline. As long as she was there, he'd be okay.

**...**

**Because frankly, I find it ridiculous that Percy was "getting smacked around" by a statue. Percy, who literally fought a god at twelve years old and ****_won_****. So I figured there had to be another explanation. I imagine that crazy things - memories, lines of dialogue, similar situations - trigger flashbacks, and they get stuck in their heads and can't focus on battle anymore.**

**Oh, also, they're really angry at the gods. And the monsters. And everything.**


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Annabeth ever stood under a waterfall, she'd been only seven years old. She'd looked at the pounding white jet with curiosity, and then been overwhelmed by the desire to find out what it felt like to stand beneath it. Looking was the nature of wisdom, after all, and she'd done her best to calculate the pressure and figured it wouldn't be too much for her.

She'd walked through the clouds of spray, and then the true falls were upon her, driving her to her knees on the sharp rocks below with the force of the water. She'd tried to cry out, but the waterfall plastered her hair into her face, the strands working their way into her mouth, almost choking her. She couldn't open her eyes; could barely move under the pressure – eventually she'd been able to claw her way out with her knees sliced to ribbons, to the banks where Luke and Thalia were waiting for her.

That was the way the fear hit her here, in this temple. Nothing at first, a slight uneasiness, and then _bam._

It almost knocked her flat.

Darkness descended on her; she was back in Tartarus, blind and stranded. She could hear Percy yelling, but the images flashed before her brain – her stepmother's hard eyes; her father's constantly avoiding her accusing gaze; Thalia's body, suspended for a moment in the air, illuminated by the jagged crack of lightning; Luke, his face cold, his eyes a hard gold – and then Percy's voice disappeared and she knew with awful, frightful certainty that he had left her, too, and that she would forever be blind and helpless and utterly, utterly alone.

She would have fallen to her knees, but she was too paralyzed to even move. The images had disappeared from before her eyes and in a way that was scarier than having them – because now there was nothing, just the blackness.

Suddenly, shockingly, she was tilting sideways and then she slammed into solid ground. The jolt helped her. She could see again. She was in Sparta, in the temple of Ares – _oh, yes, of course, how had she forgotten?_ – and Piper was lying half on top of her.

_She must have tackled me . . . but what . . . ?_

Tiny missiles targeted her suddenly, jabbing little pricks into her face. The pain helped her focus, but she wasn't sure where it had come from . . . wait. The giant. He'd been holding a hammer . . . shrapnel . . .

She was dazed, feeling _behind_ somehow, as though her thoughts weren't quite working for her the way they were supposed to. _A child of Athena,_ she reminded herself. _I control my mind._ But something was stopping her. Maybe it was her own fear.

Before Arachne, Annabeth's worst fear had been spiders. But her mind had saved her from that encounter . . . if you could call it _saving_. Now, her worst fear was not being able to _think_. And that . . . that was what was happening to her right now.

"Annabeth, get up!" The pressure of Piper's hand calmed her somewhat. She focused. The statues on the walls could – could they hide behind those? Was there anywhere they could go? If they just –

_Bam._ She was no longer in the temple; she could only vaguely feel Piper's hand on hers. She didn't know what her legs were doing – now she was watching Percy face Akhlys, watching the swirling cloak of poison float towards the goddess, seeing the darkness in Percy's eyes and breaking down inside because this was what she'd feared – this more than anything else –

"I'm here. We will get out of this." Annabeth wasn't sure if Piper was using charmspeak, but she hoped so. This was the only way she'd be able to snap out of whatever daze she was in. She tried to say this, to ask Piper to keep her sane, but her lips and tongue were oversized and numb. They wouldn't move, wouldn't obey the commands of her only-half-working brain. The best she could do was stumble after her friend, and hope Piper was right.

"A child of Aphrodite leading a child of Athena?" chuckled the giant. "Now I've seen everything. How would you defeat me, girl – with makeup and fashion tips?"

Somewhere in the back corner of her mind, Annabeth's hubris flared to life. Fatal flaw it may be, but if it kept her focused . . . She channeled her rage into it – she was the leader, she was _not_ supposed to be led – and felt herself come a little more to her senses.

"Annabeth," came Piper's voice, "trust me."

Annabeth's instincts screamed, _No!_ She wasn't supposed to have to rely on others – she was supposed to be strong! She was a daughter of Athena; she _would_ find a way out of this, even if she could barely see straight.

"A . . . a plan." She moistened her suddenly-dry lips; tried to sound in control. "I go left." A stab of terror almost ripped her mind apart, and her hand jerked in Piper's, but Piper didn't let go. "You go right. If we" –

"Annabeth." Piper's voice was gentle. "No plans."

No. That was wrong. That was fundamentally wrong. There was always a plan. Athena always has a plan. _Even if she's forsaken you,_ Annabeth's mind taunted, and tears filled her eyes. She couldn't keep her voice steady. "W-what?"

"No plans. Just follow me."

Annabeth was barely even moving on her own; Piper close to dragging her as flashes from Tartarus did battle behind her lids – Arachne, bearing down on her, a sudden stab of fear; Percy, his eyes dark with vengeance and hate; Tartarus himself, rising up, coming for them –

When everything went dark, Annabeth wondered if it was just a memory. But no, it was real – she fought to keep her mind in the present, gripped Piper's hand tightly –

"Fools!" The giant's voice made the fear in Annabeth's gut intensify; her whole body tensed up. "That is the wrong way!"

"Keep moving. It's fine. Come on."

Her companion's words blended together into a senseless jumble. Annabeth barely remembered whose hand she was holding; she thought she was with Percy again, down in Nyx's domain. There were two names doing battle on her tongue; she spit out the first one that came to her. "Piper" – yes, that was right; it was Piper – "it's like the House of Night. We should close our eyes." She didn't know how much sense she was making, but she could barely concentrate.

"No!" Piper's voice was strong; how she was keeping it together Annabeth didn't know. "Keep them open. We can't try to hide."

"Lost forever," rumbled the giant's voice, and suddenly it was all clear. They'd done the wrong thing. The plan had failed. A shudder ran through Annabeth. "Swallowed by the darkness."

There was a river in front of them – Annabeth jerked to a stop. No, there was no river, that wasn't here, they were – where were they again? They were lost, they were never going to find their way out, because she, the child of Athena, had failed. Failed. They should have followed a different plan!

"Why did we just plunge in?" she cried, voice echoing with the depths of her despair. "We're lost – we did what he wanted us to! We should have bided our time, talked to the enemy, figured out a plan. That _always _works!" A sob caught in her throat.

"Annabeth, I _never_ ignore your advice." The sweet voice appeased Annabeth's pride, soothed her prickly edges. Which was good, especially because of what she said next. "But this time I have to. We can't defeat this place with reason. You can't think your way out of your emotions."

Annabeth hated that Piper was right. She'd hated it ever since Percy – that stupid son of Poseidon – had wormed her way into her heart, wrecking all her perfectly-laid plans, flipping her whole world upside down with just one sarcastic little smirk. She'd hated it ever since Luke had gone bad, and her rational mind had told her that he was beyond hope, but she'd still fought _so_ hard to get him back anyway. Annabeth could do anything – win any game of Capture the Flag, work through even the hardest math problem, design an amazing new Mount Olympus for the gods – but she couldn't puzzle out the stupid things that emotions did to her brain.

Emotions like fear. Another wave of hopelessness crashed down on her.

"Despair, Annabeth Chase!" Tears pricked in her eyes; the giant's laughter shook every bone in her body, filled her with cold. Suddenly she was being pressed down to the floor again, holding up the weight of the sky, watching Luke walk away and wondering how everything had gone so wrong. "I am Mimas, born to slay Hephaestus. I am the breaker of plans, the destroyer of the well-oiled machines. Nothing goes right in my presence. Maps are misread. Devices break. Data is lost. The finest minds turn to mush!"

Only Piper's hand in hers kept Annabeth from crumpling to the ground. If plans didn't work, what good was she, then? If her mind turned against her, where did that leave her? How would she ever make it back to the ship? How would she ever be worthwhile again? If she didn't have her pride – what did she have?

"I've faced worse than you!" The words came out as harsh cries; Annabeth felt her chest heaving.

"Oh, I see," rumbled the giant. "Are you not afraid?"

"Never!" she sobbed.

Only the thought of Percy kept her from breaking – but the giant obviously knew it, because suddenly Annabeth was blind again, desperate, knowing that she was completely alone, that Percy had left her on her own. Despair rooted her to the spot, froze her until she thought she was about to shatter.

Then there was warmth in her hand, keeping it from freezing solid. Piper's warmth. The squeeze of her hand was comforting; her words were not. "Of course we're afraid," she said. "Terrified."

Annabeth wanted to protest but she was alone in her devastation, a cry still stuck in her throat. She didn't even feel herself falling until she was on the ground again, a crash somewhere to the side of them – and then there was light! Light, and a little more warmth – the fear spell was broken; Annabeth could breathe again. While she blinked and gasped, tears trickling warm down her cheeks, Piper leaped forward and slashed the giant's leg. His roar of pain shook Annabeth completely to her senses, and she ran with Piper behind the statue of Ares.

"You cannot defeat me,' the giant hissed. "In the last war, it took _two_ gods to bring me down. I was born to kill Hephaestus, and would have done so if Ares hadn't ganged up on me as well! You should have stayed paralyzed in your fear. Your death would've been quicker."

_No!_ Annabeth's hubris roared to life again. She _would_ go down fighting, if she went down at all. The rational part of her brain came back enough to tell her that talking right now was a bad idea. It was Piper who was staying calm here. It was Piper who needed to speak. Fear still hovered at the edges of Annabeth's vision, but for now she was able to hold it at bay.

"This temple." Piper's voice was quavery, but still rich with that _quality_ that her voice possessed, even when she wasn't charmspeaking. Annabeth couldn't tell if she was right now or not – but it didn't matter. She was talking, and the giant was listening. "The Spartans didn't chain Ares because they wanted his spirit to stay in their city."

Then why . . . Annabeth's brain raced, thinking about what statues might symbolize . . . what _Ares_ might symbolize to Sparta, the most warlike of cities.

"You think not?" Annabeth shuddered at the giant's voice, but held herself calmly. She could feel her brain wavering, though . . . ready to let the fear in, and she clenched her mind as tightly as she could.

"This is the temple of my brothers, Deimos and Phobos," continued Piper. "The Spartans came here to prepare for battle, to face their fears. Ares was chained to remind them that war has consequences. His power – the spirits of battle, the _makhai_ – should never be unleashed unless you understand how terrible they are, unless you've _felt_ fear."

Annabeth had felt fear. She could feel it right now, all those awful memories hovering around her, just above her, waiting to crash down and engulf her. Her mental muscles trembled, holding them at bay – just like she'd held up the sky – _no!_

"A child of the love goddess lectures me about war. What do you know of the _makhai_?"

"Let's find out." With some kind of courage – or insanity – Piper ran straight at the giant. It was no kind of plan – it was as stupid as the risks Percy took on a daily basis – but it scared Mimas. He staggered back, ran into the wall – and the whole place shook.

Annabeth cast her gaze around the room, letting her architectural brain distract her from her fear for a moment. She could see where the fissures were, could see where the dust was – and suddenly she was back in the cabin with those _stupid_ Mithran ghosts, gauging the instability of the room, ready to strike, ready to send a whole cavern crashing down on top of her –

"Piper, this place is unstable!" The vision disappeared, to be replaced with a fear that was present and very, very real. "If we don't leave" –

"Don't think about escape!" And to Annabeth's horror, Piper charged forward and slashed at their rope. Their only escape. There was no way to get out, unless she were to run against a wall and jump – but that was so dangerous, and the angle would be wrong, and they could send the whole place to the ground –

"Piper, have you lost your mind?" Annabeth knew the place was messing with her, knew the fear was too intense, was skewing her logic, but it didn't matter anymore. She was halfway to hysterical. She'd never known one person could be this terrified before. It was worse than with Arachne, it was worse than Tartarus, because it _was_ Arachne, it _was_ Tartarus, it was everything she'd ever feared in her life, added together and increased by an exponential degree –

"That hurt," whined the giant. "You _realize_ you cannot kill me without the help of a god and Ares is not here! The next time I face that blustering idiot, I will smash him to bits. I wouldn't have had to fight him in the _first_ place if that cowardly fool Damasen had done his job" –

At Damasen's name, Annabeth lost it. He wasn't one of her fears; he had been one of her only comforts in Tartarus, and he had given his life for her and Percy. There was no _way_ she was letting anyone besmirch his name.

"Do _not_ insult Damasen!" she screamed, charging him. Her anger pushed back the fear, a red-hot wave roaring in her ears and making her stronger. The giant backed up at her approach, and Piper seized the opportunity to attack as well. The giant's severed ear fell to the floor at their feet, and he screamed.

Piper and Annabeth took the chance, and ran. But behind them Annabeth could hear the giant's voice, roaring threats. "I will bring down this chamber!" he shouted. "The Earth Mother shall deliver me, but you shall be crushed!"

Mithras' chamber was very real in Annabeth's mind again; she tried to push it away, but it was exhausting and so, so very painful. "Piper, stop," she moaned. "How are you dealing with this? The fear – the anger" – She felt her body jerk as another spasm of terror seized her; every one of her muscles tensed up.

"Don't try to control it," said Piper. "That's what the temple is about – you have to accept the fear, adapt to it, ride it like the rapids on a river."

But Percy was water, not Annabeth. Percy was the one who knew how to go with the flow, how to take stupid risks and get away with the luck to make them work. Percy went along with things, but Annabeth shaped them. She made them what she wanted them to be. She couldn't accept that she couldn't control her fear – even though she'd had no luck so far. "How do you know that?"

"I don't know it." What – but – "I just feel it."

The temple shuddered again, and Annabeth tried not to remember Arachne, the crumbling of stone, the burning of her ankle, the running away from thousands of tiny spiders on a bad foot –

"You cut the rope." She could have woven with that; she knew it. She could have done anything to get them out of here. But now – "We're going to die down here."

Then Piper's hands were on Annabeth's cheeks, and her face was so close to Annabeth's that she could feel her breath on her face. Despite their constant changing, there was something steady in Piper's eyes, and Annabeth breathed fully for maybe the first time since the giant had appeared.

"Fear can't be reasoned with," murmured Piper. "Neither can hate. They're like love. They're almost _identical_ emotions. That's why Ares and Aphrodite like each other. Their twin sons – Fear and Panic – were spawned from both war and love."

"But I don't . . . this doesn't make sense." Annabeth _hated_ not being able to control her thoughts.

"No." There was something calming about the beauty of Piper's face and the softness of her voice. Piper's strength wasn't like Annabeth's, or like Reyna's, or even like Rachel's, really. Annabeth and Reyna were all about steel, hardness, glinting sharp edges. Rachel was all bold, bright colors and brash remarks. But Piper . . . Piper was soft, gentle, soothing, but still strong. Bendable, but she didn't break. "Stop thinking about it," she advised. "Just feel."

"I hate that." Annabeth didn't want to say it out loud – maybe it was the gentle urging in Piper's eyes that pulled the words from her throat in a choked sob.

"I know." There was nothing but understanding in Piper's face. "You can't plan for feelings. Like with Percy, and your future – you can't control every contingency. You have to accept that. _Let_ it scare you. Trust that it'll be okay anyway."

Annabeth didn't like letting things happen. Everything got messed up too easily that way. If the world didn't fit right, there was always a way to reshape it into something that worked. There was always a plan that worked. Always a –

She realized that what she was thinking was exactly what Piper had been talking about. "I don't know if I can," she admitted, ignoring the protests of her hubris in the back of her head. _You can do anything! You can control anything!_

"Then for right now concentrate on revenge for Damasen. Revenge for Bob."

Piper's words brought anger back to Annabeth's mind. Anger: an emotion that wasn't fear, or despair. She clung to it the way she'd held Percy in the River Cocytus. Maybe she couldn't let go just yet, but she could let her anger take over. "I'm good now."

"Great, because I need your help. We're going to run out there together."

Good, a plan. "Then what?"

"I have no idea."

Annabeth wanted to think of something – then she remembered. No more thinking. Stop thinking. _Feel_.

It might have been the hardest thing she'd ever done, but she nodded in agreement. She couldn't help adding, "Gods, I hate it when you lead."

Piper laughed, and the laugh spilled over Annabeth, loosening her clenched limbs a little. "Come on."

Even before Tartarus, even before the awful flashbacks and visions that choked up her mind, Annabeth had never been one of those people who'd gone to sleep easily. It was just too hard for her to empty her mind. She'd lie awake for hours going over all her plans for buildings, everything that had happened that day, all the things that might happen in the future, revising battle plans, thinking about her mother . . . It almost always took her a good two hours from bedtime to sleeping, because her thoughts wouldn't quiet down.

So now, as they ran in no direction in particular, most of Annabeth's concentration went to trying to shut down her brain.

ADHD, in children of Athena, manifested not only in instinctive battle reflexes, but in noticing and categorizing everything in the area. Tiny thoughts kept triggering other thoughts in Annabeth's mind, bumping into snippets of plans and spasms of fear, but Annabeth pushed them away. _Damasen,_ she thought. _Bob._ She tried to plunge into the river of her anger.

"Weak mortals!" cried Mimas. "No plan of yours can defeat me!"

Annabeth fought back her stubborn pride. _Damasen. Bob._ She slashed harder with her drakon bone sword.

"That's good," replied Piper, "because I don't have a plan. Annabeth, keep our friend occupied."

"Oh, he's occupied." If she gave in to the urge to plan, he would crush her with fear and despair again. So instead of fighting herself, Annabeth put everything she had into fighting Mimas. She didn't come at him strategically. She didn't sneak. She didn't sweet-talk. She just charged.

She imagined herself a whirlwind of power, the center of her own hurricane, as Percy had been. She slashed and stabbed for all she was worth, losing herself in the haze of battle, driving the giant back, making him concentrate on her instead of Piper. But she wasn't thinking strategically. She was just _angry._

Suddenly, Mimas stopped. He looked at something behind Annabeth's head and wailed, "No!"

Annabeth turned, too, to see a headless statue and a daughter of Aphrodite standing in the center of swirling flames. For a moment she was terrifying – and then, the flames vanished. Annabeth could still see them, though, reflected in Piper's eyes.

"Foolish girl!" Mimas ran at Piper, and Annabeth followed. "The _makhai_ have abandoned you!"

"Or maybe they've abandoned you."

Piper's voice was all calm confidence; Annabeth felt anything but. But maybe here off-balance was a good thing. And she could definitely make it happen to others.

As Mimas lunged, Annabeth sank her blade into his leg, and he stumbled – right into Piper's sword.

As he fell, the statue above him fell as well. The combination of the blows crumbled him into dust.

With that, the last waves of fear were gone, leaving Annabeth shaking and still and utterly, utterly drained. All she could manage to say was, "What just happened?"

"I'm not sure." Piper looked shaken as well, which made Annabeth feel a little less weak – but not much. She was just starting to realize how badly she'd lost it.

"Piper, you were amazing, but those fiery spirits you released" –

"The _makhai_."

"How does that help us find the cure we're looking for?"

"I don't know. They said I could summon them when the time comes. Maybe Artemis and Apollo can explain." Piper shrugged.

Then the room shook again, and part of the wall caved in. Annabeth flashed back one more time, but this image was not brought on by a giant – it was all too real. She'd had enough of ceilings – or skies – caving in on her, thanks. "We need to get out of here."

"I'm working on it," Piper promised.

Annabeth started to panic a little – but Piper's no-plan thing had worked well before. She had to trust. She took a deep breath, hating it, but knowing she had to. "And, uh, I think this ear is your spoil of war."

Piper's face screwed up briefly. "Gross."

"Would make a lovely shield." Annabeth barely knew what she was saying anymore. She just knew that she was trying to talk to distract herself from how badly she'd messed up.

"Shut up, Chase." Piper glanced at the statue. "Thank you, brothers, for helping to kill the giant. I need one more favor – an escape. And, believe me, I am properly terrified. I offer you this, uh, lovely ear as a sacrifice."

Nothing happened – the cavern continued to collapse.

Piper's hand closed around Annabeth's again. "We're going through that doorway. If this works, we might find ourselves on the surface."

_Mithras._ "And if it doesn't?"

"Let's find out," said Piper, and she dragged Annabeth forward into the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as they made it back to the ship, Annabeth went straight to her cabin.

She brushed past Frank, who waved in greeting. She practically shoved Jason aside; he called her name as she stormed away, but he was thankfully intercepted by Piper. She strode fast by Hazel's cabin, where the lights were out (clearly the poor girl was trying to sleep through her seasickness). Above her head, she could hear Leo in the engine room, tinkering with something or another, but she didn't go up to help him as she might have before. And Percy stepped out of his cabin just in time to see her walk past, but she didn't even stop to look at him.

She just took the most direct route she could find, walked in long, fast strides back to her cabin, fell onto the bed, and collapsed into tears.

She didn't know when the last time she'd cried this hard was. She didn't know if she'd ever cried this hard. All she knew was that she – who was supposed to be strong, smart, impossible to rattle, and able to think her way out of anything – had fallen apart when her friends needed her, that she'd let fear overcome her, and that she had failed.

_You should have done better,_ her hubris chided. _You're supposed to be able to do anything. You can do anything._

But she couldn't.

Faced by those memories of Tartarus, by those awful images and scenes that had flashed through her head, she'd frozen. She'd been useless. Worse than useless – she'd been a burden on Piper. Was she a burden on everyone now? Had Tartarus broken something inside her, made her less capable?

Every day, she and Percy ate with the other demigods, talked with them, planned with them, fought with them. She knew they seemed as normal as ever. Percy with his stupid sense of humor – that snark that came out even under fire. And she – well, she was always more serious than Percy anyway, but she found herself trying to make things lighter with the others, too.

They'd told everyone the stories about Tartarus, and – well, news traveled fast around the ship. It wasn't like it was easy to keep secrets. But they hadn't shared the darker parts. Much. Annabeth had admitted to Piper how much it had scared her when Percy had stared down Akhlys like that. But the other girl didn't seem to get it. You couldn't, really, unless you'd seen it. The hardness in Percy's eyes, the ease of his anger . . . He played it down with the others, so light and friendly, trying to stay close to all of them. He was Percy, after all. But Annabeth wondered how different he would be if she weren't here.

_Maybe no different at all_, she thought bitterly. After all, hadn't she just proven her uselessness? Hadn't she just seen everything she'd feared, and frozen up completely?

She'd always thought she disliked having pride as her fatal flaw because it made her think she could do everything. Now she realized why exactly it was so much of a flaw.

Because now she realized that she couldn't.

And she'd never felt like such a complete failure.

Her door creaked open and someone came in. Annabeth felt so miserable she didn't even care who it was, who saw her like this. Even if it were _Leo_, who would just make fun of her – she had no energy left to worry about that. She had been completely drained by Mimas' fear, anyway – no room to feel anything but shame, grief, and despair. She just stayed in her crumpled little heap on her bed, hoping whoever it was would leave her alone.

Her door closed again, but Annabeth knew that whoever it was was still there with her. And soon enough, she recognized the sound of his breathing, and sighed just a little in relief.

Thank the gods. The only person she would have wanted in here with her anyway.

Percy crossed the room to sit on the bed, putting his hand on her shoulder. She let out a tiny whimper, hating herself for being so weak but feeling physically unable to sit up.

"Hey." His voice was soft, concerned. "What's wrong? What happened with Piper?"

"Mimas," she whispered; the words hurt. "Mimas . . . and fear . . . and I couldn't plan anything . . . and I – I just" –

"Annabeth." His hands were on her head now, stroking her hair, smoothing it back from her face. His fingertips felt so good, so soothing on her head, that she let out another small sob and then took a deep breath. "Tell me what happened. Tell me what I can do."

"You can't do anything," she gasp-whimpered. "And neither can I, don't you see? I just" – She broke off, shuddered, and told him everything.

While she talked, choking out the words, he eased his way closer to her, pulling her head into his lap and continuing to brush his fingers through her hair. She broke off a little when telling him just what Mimas had made her see – she settled for saying, "He showed me everything I'd ever feared." Still, his fingers tightened in her hair for a moment, and she knew that he was also thinking of Tartarus, maybe even remembering the darkness – or whatever it was – that had possessed him.

When she finished, she was silent for a moment, and then it built up in her to a level so high she couldn't hold it back. "I was useless, Percy! I was so helpless, and I couldn't do anything, and Piper had to protect me, and I'm not supposed to _be_ that, Percy! I'm the Architect of Olympus! I fought Kronos, and Kampe, and Arachne! I survived Tartarus! I'm supposed to be strong – but I just – I just broke _down_, and I – and I" – The sobs were louder now, heaving, tearing at her. "I – what if I'm not anything anymore? What if I can't do what I used to? What if I'm – what if I'm nothing?"

At the last word, she pulled herself up, his hands falling away. She felt dangerously light-headed and swayed a bit. But she met Percy's eyes, sea green and beautiful and full of sadness.

"Annabeth Chase," he said quietly, cupping her face in his hands. "You are definitely _not_ nothing. You haven't lost anything, I promise. You're still as strong as you ever were, and you'll always be the smartest person I know."

"But Percy," she protested, "I fell apart in there! Completely went to pieces. That doesn't sound like strong or smart to me – and it certainly didn't feel like it." She swayed again, feeling so dizzy and empty, and this time he caught her and crushed her to him. She pressed her face into his shoulder, and he rubbed her back gently in soft, soothing circles.

"Annabeth," he said, "from the way you tell it, it sounds to me like you fell apart because you're _too_ strong and smart. You're so brilliant, and you can control so much – but not everything. And you can't try, because you'll just drive yourself crazy. Besides, it's okay to not know what's going on all the time. I mean, I never know what I'm doing and it's always turned out okay!"

"How can you be sure about that?" she mumbled into his shirt.

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but" – She choked up on the next words. _Bob and Damasen aren't._

Now his body jerked a bit. "I know," he whispered, though she hadn't spoken. "You think I don't know? I dream about them every night! I see them whenever I look at the stars" – His voice turned into a half-sob, too.

"Maybe . . ." Annabeth's voice trailed off. "Maybe if I'd had a better plan, had thought things out beforehand . . ."

"No." Now he sounded firm. "I think that all the time, too. I think what if we'd just done something differently. What if something had changed. But, Annabeth, it – it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have made a better plan. They were – they were" –

"They were part of the plan, I know," she mumbled, exhausted. "They were a strategy. But they were – they were so much more. And I failed them, and I failed Piper, and I don't want to be a failure, Percy."

"You're not." He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away from him so that their eyes met again. "Remember what you told me the other day? About not putting too much pressure on myself, and being proud of what I can do?" He waited for her nod before continuing. "Well, it applies to you, too. You're not a failure. You're Annabeth Chase, Architect of Olympus, brave, smart, and awesome." His lips quirked up in a small smile. "Also beautiful, for what it's worth."

He kissed her before she could say anything else, slow and sweet, until a little of the bitterness faded away. She still felt sad and shaky and drained, but some of the fear was gone. Reaching around him, she slipped her hand under the back of his shirt and pressed two fingers to the spot where his Achilles spot had once been, feeling him shiver against her.

"Thanks, Percy," she whispered against his lips. "And, for what it's worth, I've always got your back, Seaweed Brain."

"I know," he replied, pulling away. "How else do you think I sleep at night?"

She laughed slightly, separating herself completely from him and brushing at her eyes. She was sure they were red and puffy, and she could feel her pride returning – enough to make her not want to face the other demigods like this.

Percy leaned forward again, surprising her. He pressed his lips to her cheekbones, first one, then the other, kissing the swollen skin under her eyes. Annabeth's body melted like metal when Leo's flame touched it, her shoulders slumping.

"Now," he said. "Let's go eat. I'm starving, and I bet you are, too. Piper's probably filled the others in while we've been in here, so let's get out there before somebody destroys something and we don't get any food."

He tugged on her hand, but she resisted. "No, I'm good to stay in here for a little while longer."

"You don't get to shut yourself away," he informed her. "Besides, I always like to chase down my fear with a nice blue Coke. After what you faced, I think you deserve some good food."

She put up a little more of a fight, but her heart wasn't in it. She barely felt hungry, but she did know enough about shock that Percy was right – food and water were what she needed right now. Besides, she'd have to face the others sooner or later.

"Okay, Seaweed Brain," she conceded, letting him pull her up off the bed and press one last kiss into her hair. "Let's go before they wreck the kitchen."

He smiled, and led the way into the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

Percy was so angry, it was ridiculous.

It had felt good – for a few moments, anyway – to be fighting the storm. Well – not exactly _good._ It wasn't like it was good that their ship was desperately in danger of sinking. It wasn't good that everything would have been destroyed and their quest completely messed up. But at least Percy could _do_ something about it. And it had felt good to fight on his own home turf – to smash the ocean itself with its own water, every fist of water an extension of Percy's own anger and resentment. And when he'd beckoned Jason to come down underwater, and face his sister, and Polybotes, _again_ (seriously, why wouldn't the guy just stay dead?), he felt good because he was taking charge, he was doing something, he was being _useful_.

Yeah. And then he'd met yet _another_ minor god who hadn't been honored because the gods found it necessary to _break their freaking promises_, and then there was a cloud of poison, and – well –

The rest was self-explanatory.

Because if even fighting in an arena gave him stupid flashbacks, what was facing a cloud of _poison_ supposed to do? Percy had discovered he could control any liquids down in Tartarus. He'd almost destroyed Akhlys, had let hatred and anger overwhelm him until he stood over her defenseless figure cloaked in poison. At that moment, Percy had _hated_ more than ever before, and ever since.

Power over poison . . . no demigod should be able to do that.

So when Polybotes had shot that poison at Percy, there'd been a second when he froze. A second when he could have instinctively reacted – but then he remembered Akhlys. He remembered Annabeth's horrified eyes, her cry for him to stop. He remembered stepping back and looking at himself, remembered being _terrified_ of what he saw.

So when Polybotes poisoned him, he did nothing.

He did nothing; he froze for that split second that was all the poison needed to work. He froze, rendering himself utterly incapacitated. He listened to Jason promising to finish Percy's job, to give more recognition to the minor gods, and despite the fact that he couldn't breathe and he was feeling his whole body slowly dissolve into nothingness, there was still room for a corrosive anger at the gods who he'd _told to do that in the first place_.

So now, even though he was stuck on the ship with poison working its way all too slowly out of his body, the anger he felt wasn't so much at Polybotes as it was at the gods, at Gaea, at all these supernatural forces that wouldn't just leave him alone already.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. He was pretty angry at Polybotes.

Every few hours, poison-tasting bile welled in his throat and he had to run out of the room to vomit up his guts. Waves of hot and cold rolled through his body; poison sweat leaked from his pores. So not only was he mentally unstable, but physically as well. How wonderful.

It had been like this for the last couple of days. When he and Jason had first rocketed up from the depths of the ocean to join the other five on the ship, the waters had been calm. Frank was flying around as an eagle, tugging things on the rigging according to the orders of a yelling Leo, who was still bungee-lashed to the console. Hazel was sitting on the floor, her face gray but relieved-looking. Piper and Annabeth were working on repairing the sails: Piper was holding them up for Annabeth, who was somehow sewing – or weaving – them back together with bits of rope and frayed thread.

She'd dropped what she was doing as soon as she caught sight of Percy and Jason, and hurried over to them, with Piper right behind her. "Percy?" she'd asked. "What's – _di immortales_!"

That last part was because he'd lurched away from her and bent over the side of the deck to throw up spectacularly into the sea.

Not his finest moment.

Unfortunately, this had continued. Percy had no idea how much poison Polybotes had put into his body – time had gone a little fuzzy for him there – but it must have been a lot. Because if it was taking this much time to come out again . . . well, that was just kind of ridiculous.

The first few hours had been the worst. Annabeth had stayed above long after the others had come down – she was the only one who was really capable of helping Leo fix the ship. Not _fix_, per se, but get it back into enough shape that it could wobble through the waves without too much trouble. When Leo had declared enough, she'd come down to join Percy in the bathroom and, to her credit, had only looked mildly revolted at the vile black slime he was still choking up.

"_Styx,_ Seaweed Brain, what happened to you?"

"Polybotes happened to me," grumbled Percy, laying his head against the toilet seat. The cold porcelain felt good on his face, although he could already feel more deadly sweat beading on his forehead. "Also one of my sisters, apparently." He flushed the toilet with one hand. "Polybotes, I give you this as an offering. May it poison your soul."

Annabeth made a face at him. "That's disgusting."

"Polybotes is disgusting."

"No arguments there." She kissed the top of his head. "Jason told us all the basics of what happene down there. Did you" – She hesitated. "The poison – do you think you could have controlled it?"

Percy's stomach churned again, and he groaned in revulsion, his ears ringing. There were no words to describe how awful he felt. "I think . . . there was a moment . . . I think, yes. But I froze up again. I got distracted."

Annabeth's eyes had squeezed shut, as though in pain. Without saying a word, she'd kissed his hair again and left the bathroom, leaving Percy to his misery.

Over the last few days, he'd barely seen her. He'd been able to leave the bathroom for longer and longer stretches of time, but she spent most of that time with Leo up in the engine room, working on fixing the ship. He had the sneaking suspicion that she was avoiding him, and that hurt.

Had she finally realized what a useless loser she was dating? Or was she just too grossed out by his awful state?

Both of those seemed wrong. They'd gone through Tartarus together. It wasn't like she would just ditch him like that. But he couldn't help but wonder what was going on.

When they reached Mykonos, Percy was feeling well enough that he knew he'd be fine for a few hours, and they needed someone to go scout. Before anyone else could volunteer, Percy said, "I'll go. And Annabeth."

She looked as though she wanted to protest, but the others had already agreed and there wasn't a logical reason for her to say no. Percy knew – he'd seen her _I'm-desperately-trying-to-plan-a-way-out-of-this_ look on her face.

So before she could think of one, he grabbed her hand and they headed out.

When they were on shore and far enough away from the ship, surrounded by the pelicans that seemed to be everywhere here, Percy pulled her to a stop in front of a little convenience store. "Annabeth," he said, "what's going on? Why are you trying to avoid me?"

"I'm not" – The denial was weak, and she knew it. Eventually she hung her head in defeat. "I don't – I don't want to talk about it," she finally murmured.

"But if you don't want to talk about it, how am I supposed to know what's going on?"

"You don't – you don't – just don't." Annabeth started moving again, brushing past some more random pelicans and walking fast the way she did when she was agitated. "It's nothing wrong with you. It's my problem, and I'm dealing with it."

Usually when Annabeth said she didn't want to talk about something, she actually meant that she didn't want to talk about it. But this wasn't one of those times. Percy knew that there was something bothering her, and it was causing her to avoid him. And he knew that if he just let her go without saying it this time, it would make it three times harder to bring it up in the future.

He caught hold of her hand and made her stop walking. "Hey," he said. "Annabeth. We're in this together, remember? You can tell me what's bothering you."

"That's the problem!" she said furiously, yanking her hand out of his grip. Her cheeks started to flush.

"Wait." Those words blindsided him. "You don't . . . you don't want to be in this together?" He tried to think back to anything he might have done, anything he might have said – "What did I do, Annabeth? Why—?"

"No! No, it's not that!"

"Then what?"

She said nothing; only turned forward and started walking again. He hurried behind, trying to catch up physically and mentally. "Seriously! What's going on? What happened? Why are you being like this?"

He reached out and caught for her hand, and this time she didn't pull it away. She kept walking, though, tugging him forward, until they stood in a little alley between two streets. There were only a few pelicans here, and they didn't seem to find Percy and Annabeth particularly interesting.

"Percy, I didn't – I didn't want" – She broke off again, looking hopeless.

"Annabeth, seriously. Did I do something?" His mind replayed the last few days again and again. "You have to tell me so I can know not to do it again!"

She stared down at her feet, refusing to meet his eyes. Maybe an apology would help. Even if he had no idea what he was apologizing for. "I don't know what I did, I swear, Annabeth, but whatever it was, I'm really sorry."

"No!" she burst out, and finally she looked up to meet his gaze. Her cheeks glowed deep red, and her eyes brimmed with tears. "It's not anything you did, Percy. Don't apologize for anything. It's not you – it's me who should be apologizing to you!"

He probably should have said something better, but he had no idea what to do. Instead, all his brain could stumble out was, "Huh?"

"I'm so sorry, Percy," she whispered. "I'm sorry for everything. I deserve all of this, but you don't. You didn't ask for any of it, and I'm so, so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Sometimes Annabeth did this thing where she talked about things that Percy didn't understand, and his brain was struggling to catch up. But usually those things were about physics and architecture and Greek mythology, not . . . apologies. He had no idea what was going on.

"I taunted Arachne," she whispered. "If I hadn't let my stupid pride get the best of me, if I'd just contacted you guys and pretended I was going to put her artwork on Olympus, she wouldn't have attacked me and I wouldn't have been dragged into Tartarus. It would have been okay! But it was my fault I fell in, and you just – you just – I deserved it, and you didn't! You shouldn't be remembering it like I am; you should be safe and okay and" – Her voice was choked with sobs now, but she was still talking. "And the poison thing is my fault, too, because I told you never to do it again, and if I hadn't done that, you would have been okay, and I just – I just" –

"Whoa," he interrupted. His mind was spinning, but he'd gotten a few things. "You're saying you _deserved_ the fall into Tartarus? No one deserved that. Least of all you!"

"But – I taunted her." Annabeth bit one of her lips so hard he could see it turning white. "I made her angry. I made her attack me. And then I dragged you down with me. It's my fault! It's all my fault!"

"No!" Percy insisted. Letting her fall on her own had never even crossed his mind. "Annabeth, I could never have let you go. We – us – us being together is more important than anything else. I would never" –

"But that's your flaw!" she interrupted. "Your fatal flaw – and I enabled it! _My_ fatal flaw should have brought about my undoing, not yours. But I allowed yours to do that. I _let_ you fall with me. And then I made you promise – the poison" –

Tears started leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"Annabeth, it's not your fault." He reached for her and pulled her into him, holding her close and feeling her shake with suppressed sobs. "It's not you – it's not because of you I made that promise. I mean, it was, kind of." She made a strangled noise, trying to say something, but he cut her off. "No, it wasn't! Wait. Hang on."

He tried to get his head straight, started over. "I did make that promise because of you, but the thing is, you were right. You're always right, anyway, but" – She laughed a little through tears, and he felt something bubble up in his chest – a strange mixture of sadness, love, and anger – "but that time, with Akhlys – that scared me, too. You didn't – you making me promise – that was the right thing to do." He still shuddered, thinking about it. He'd felt more powerful than ever – but more out of control. More bitter.

Not that he didn't still feel bitter.

"But, if you hadn't promised me not to control poison – maybe you could have stopped Polybotes! Maybe" –

"Annabeth, you're way too logical sometimes." She'd analyzed this situation way more thoroughly than he ever would have. He hadn't thought far enough to get mad at her – and even now that he was thinking that far, he still wasn't mad. "Now you're just being paranoid. You didn't make me swear on the Styx or anything. I would – I mean, I wouldn't break a promise to you. But I think I know you'd rather have me come back alive than break a promise. Unless . . . I'm missing something?"

"Don't be an idiot, Seaweed Brain." She smacked him in the arm.

"You're the one who just apologized to me for something stupid. I don't think I'm the idiot here." He bumped her with his shoulder.

"So . . . you don't blame me?" Annabeth's voice was wondering. Percy flashed back to the first things she'd ever told him about her dad: how he and her stepmom had blamed her for all the monsters that ever attacked. He remembered how convinced she'd always been that she could save Luke, and realized that she'd probably always felt like she'd failed him.

He realized that maybe Annabeth was used to being blamed.

"No." He would have kissed her, but he was afraid of giving her secondhand Polybotes-poison. "I swear on the Styx, Annabeth, I don't blame you. Everything that happened to me – that was all my fault. My choices. Not yours."

She leaned down so that she could rest her forehead against his shoulder. He felt her tears soaking into his shirt, but he didn't care. He just stood there and held her – for how long, he had no idea. It didn't matter anyway – he would have been okay to stand there holding her until the end of time.

She took a shaky breath and pulled away, wiping her eyes. "Okay, Seaweed Brain," she said, slipping her hand into his. "Let's go do some scouting."

Percy smiled, taking comfort in the pressure of her hand. "Gladly."

...

**So, if you've read the story Flaws by romanitas, this scene does contain some similar elements to that scene. I don't think I'm stealing them, but I can't promise that I would have necessarily thought of these things without that story. So if you've read it, and you see some similarities, that's why. And if you haven't read it, you should. It's amazing.**

**Other things I don't own: Percy Jackson. Because if I did, these scenes would be in the actual book.**


	6. Chapter 6

Annabeth couldn't deny that she was afraid.

She _knew_ that this was a time for that mixture of her logic and Piper's intuition. She knew that she and Percy were the right choice of heroes to go – knew that Athena's and Poseidon's essence was so thick around the place that they wouldn't be discovered. She knew that Piper's charmspeak and singing were strong enough to keep Kekrops from attacking or betraying them. And she knew that if they _were_ discovered, they might not be expecting Piper – Aphrodite's children usually smelled less strong than other demigods, enough to keep them under the radar.

She knew these things. And she knew that the plan she'd made with Frank, Hazel, and Leo was foolproof.

But she also knew that her skill on the battlefield was nowhere near as powerful as it had been before. Neither was Percy's. She knew that they both still had a long way to go to recover from Tartarus, and that fighting giants was _not_ the way to go about doing that. And she knew that if either one of them had a flashback and froze up on the battlefield, that would be it for them.

But there was nothing for it. They had to go anyway, and if they were caught, they'd have to trust her plans and Piper's tongue.

As they traveled beneath Athens, Annabeth marveled at how different she felt than she'd always anticipated. It had been her life's dream to visit Athens, her mother's city, to see the Parthenon. But now that she was here, all that she was seeing was sewer and uncomfortable, painful memories. It reeked of bitterness and disappointment. Similar to the way she currently felt about her mother.

"I don't like this place," she muttered, suddenly as uncomfortable and prickly as she'd been with Jason and Piper on the way to Ithaca. "Reminds me of when I was underneath Rome."

Ever since Sparta, the fear had been closer to the edges of her mind than usual. Even the tiniest thing was enough to trigger painful flashbacks. She hated being so close to the edge; she squirmed a little, trying to make it go away.

"Our domain is much older," laughed Kekrops. "Much, much older."

His voice sounded almost like Arachne's – or was she imagining it? Annabeth grabbed Percy's hand and held on like a lifeline.

Piper's voice helped a little. Her song was calming, but not calming enough. Tiny waves of pinpricks seemed to be making their way up and down Annabeth's whole body. As the snake people congregated around them, Annabeth's mind was brought uncomfortably back to spiders.

Then, though, there was something much bigger and scarier to worry about. She could hear a rhythmic beat echoing throughout them, and she was starting to recognize the shape of the chambers and corridors. The same shape of the chambers of the heart.

The voice only confirmed it for her. _I awake._

Annabeth stopped in her tracks, fighting hard to stay in the present. "Oh, that's not good," she managed, her voice coming out more breathy and less confident than she'd have liked.

"It's like Tartarus." Percy's voice was comforting and unhelpful at the same time. It brought the memories closer, but at least it reminded her that he was there and safe. "You remember . . . his heartbeat. When he appeared . . ."

"Don't," Annabeth cut him off. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying not to picture the swirling void that was his face, the sudden solidification – "Just . . . don't."

"Sorry." Percy turned to her, and the dim light of his sword and the overpowering claustrophobia she suddenly felt brought on overwhelming waves of fear.

_At last,_ said the voice, and it reminded Annabeth of Tartarus informing them what an honor it was to be killed by him personally.

She almost crumpled to the ground right there. What was the point of coming here? Her greatest fear, in the last few days, had become failure – because she knew it was coming. She knew she would fail here, just as she had in Sparta, just as she had in Tartarus – she hadn't saved Bob, or Damasen –

Only the pressure of Percy's hand on hers kept her upright; he held on so hard that his knuckles were turning white. As much as she needed him, he needed her, too. She kept going.

Ahead of them, there was a curtain of green. Something repulsive – why did these mythical beings' bodies have to be so _real_? Seriously, did there _have_ to be mucus? Wouldn't the heart have been bad enough?

"Okay," muttered Percy, quietly enough that only Annabeth could hear him, "so we're literally going to walk through snot. I love mythology."

"Beyond this camouflage is the Acropolis," Kekrops informed them. "You must remain here – I will check that your way is clear."

Even through her fear, Annabeth's senses tingled. She was an expert at reading people – and monsters. There was something off about his voice. Little alarms started chiming furiously in her mind.

Before she could say anything, Piper spoke, sending the _gemini_ away. Then she faced Kekrops, and Annabeth was glad she'd figured it out without Annabeth having to say anything. Piper's voice was unquestionably the more powerful. Especially right now – Annabeth figured if she tried to talk, all that would come out was an unimpressive squeaking noise.

"Kekrops, you're planning to betray us as soon as you step through that goo," said Piper. Her voice was calm, as usual.

"Yes." The monster confirmed Annabeth's suspicions. "I will alert the giants. They will destroy you." He paused. "Why did I tell you that?"

"Listen to the heartbeat of Gaea. You can sense her rage, can't you?"

Annabeth couldn't sense any rage. Then again, the fear pulsing at the edges of her mind made it hard for her to concentrate on any feelings she might be having. What mattered was that Piper could, and Annabeth trusted Piper's senses.

"I can, yes," admitted Kekrops. He looked afraid. "She is angry."

"She'll destroy everything," Piper informed him. "She'll reduce the Acropolis to a smoking crater. Athens – your city – will be utterly destroyed, your people along with it." Annabeth winced – however angry she was at her mother, she felt an instinctive loyalty to this city. She couldn't see it destroyed any more than Kekrops probably could. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I – I do." Kekrops looked as though he couldn't believe what he'd just said.

"Whatever hatred you have for humans, for demigods, for Athena, we are the only chance to stop Gaea." How was Piper staying so calm? Annabeth could barely hold herself together, and yet Piper was just going with the flow. "So you will _not_ betray us. For your own sake, and your people, you will scout the territory and make sure the way is clear. You will say nothing to the giants. Then you will return."

"That . . . is what I'll do." Kekrops swept aside the curtain and disappeared.

"Piper," Annabeth's awe was growing by the minute. "That was incredible."

"We'll see if it works." Piper sat down, and Percy handed her a bottle of water. She drank deeply. "Thanks."

"You think the charm will last?" Percy sat, as well, leaning against the wall, and Annabeth followed suit.

"I'm not sure." Piper drained her water bottle. "If Kekrops comes back in two minutes with an army of giants, then no."

They lapsed into silence. Annabeth tried not to think about Tartarus. She tried not to remember Rome. She tried not to think, period.

She wasn't very good at it. The thoughts lingered in her head, interspersed with snippets of plans that probably wouldn't work. Plans that got more reckless every time she thought.

She realized that of the three of them, Piper was the best-functioning at the moment. Of the three of them, Annabeth and Percy were more likely to be caught. So whatever she did, it would have to go to protecting Piper. If that was the best hope of defeating these giants, she'd do whatever it took.

So if it came to a last-ditch plan, Piper was the one to save.

Suddenly, the aforementioned broke the silence. "Do you guys ever think about your families?"

Annabeth hadn't, not lately. But now she did. Whenever she thought _family _her mind immediately went to thoughts of Luke and Thalia . . . but when those had passed she thought of Malcolm and Chiron and all her half-siblings and friends at camp. She thought about Clarisse and Grover and Tyson and Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She thought about her dad – evenings spent watching old movies and eating popcorn. Even her stepmom – she remembered coming home after the winter solstice three years ago, remembered her stepmom giving her an awkward hug and her two half-brothers practically tackling her to the ground.

And she remembered Sally Jackson, who'd been there for her throughout those agonizing months of missing Percy and not knowing what to do. She remembered eating blue chocolate-chip cookies in Percy's mother's kitchen, talking to Sally about her family and her past and all her fears. She'd told the woman things she'd never told anyone else before.

"My mom," Percy said suddenly. His voice trembled. "I . . . I haven't even _seen_ her since Hera made me disappear. I called her from Alaska, I gave Coach Hedge some letters to deliver to her. I" – He choked off. Annabeth squeezed his hand. "She's all I've got. Her and my stepdad, Paul."

"And Tyson." Percy's only sibling who'd ever cared about him. "And Grover" – gods, she and Grover had been the worst when Percy'd vanished. Grover missed him so much – if he and Percy never got to reunite – and what about Rachel? "And" –

"Yeah, of course." Percy obviously knew what she was about to say; was he still tensing up whenever she mentioned Rachel? "Thanks. I feel much better."

Piper gave a shaky laugh. "What about you, Annabeth?"

Annabeth stared down at her sword, wondering when the last time she'd really felt safe was. She talked about her dad, her stepmother, her stepbrothers. And . . . why was she remembering that uncle in Boston right now? She hadn't even thought about them since she was about six, when she'd overheard one end of an angry phone conversation. But . . . maybe this was the time for thoughts like these.

"You, with the Yankees cap? You've got family in Red Sox country?" As soon as Percy said it, he probably realized it had been a mistake. Annabeth's hat still wasn't working; a surge of anger at her mother overwhelmed the fear, if only momentarily. He squeezed her shoulder in apology.

She nudged him gently to show that she wasn't mad. "I never see them," she explained. "My dad and my uncle don't get along. Some old rivalry – I don't know. It's stupid what keeps people apart."

They sat in silence for a little longer, Annabeth leaning into Percy. Talking about her family had staved off some of the fear. But when the curtain trembled, it came back in full force. Her fingers tensed on her sword, ready to attack. But Kekrops was by himself.

"The way is clear – but hurry. The ceremony is almost complete."

Together, they rose and made their way out through the curtain. When they emerged, Piper was grimacing. Annabeth barely felt it. Her skin already felt so touchy that she imagined her level of discomfort had just reached its ceiling.

She was wrong. Emerging was almost worse. They emerged into a temple that felt both right and wrong at the same time – a clash of pleasure and pain that felt as though her skin were sending off sparks. She knew from the feeling and from the architecture where they were. A place sacred to both Athena and Poseidon – bitter rivals. Looking at Percy, she could see that he was experiencing a similar sensation.

The ground was covered in marks . . . as she looked at them, Annabeth realized what they were. They both attracted and repelled. She bent and ran her hand over them.

"This is the place," she murmured. "Percy, these are the trident marks of Poseidon."

Percy put his hand on the ground, right next to hers. The air between them tingled. "He must have been using his extra-extra-large trident."

When they were twelve, a comment like that would have sparked her irritation, made her hit him or roll her eyes or get angry, especially aggravated by the place they were in now. But after all they had been through together, it almost made her smile. If not for the mixture of awe and discomfort, she would have. "This is where he struck the earth, where he made a saltwater spring appear when he had the contest with my mom to sponsor Athens."

He straightened; she followed suit. "So this is where the rivalry started."

"Yeah," she breathed, barely able to believe that they were there, right then. And then she couldn't believe anything anymore, because Percy had wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a searing, bone-melting, brain-numbing kiss.

She felt as though her body was dissolving, her spirit was soaring. All the fear, all the discomfort, everything – it disappeared. There was nothing to think – it was just pure sensation, just _Percy, Percy, Percy_.

She didn't realize she'd forgotten to breathe until he pulled away. He kept his grip on her, though, which was good, because she might have melted into the ground if he'd let go.

"The rivalry ends here," he said. "I love you, Wise Girl."

That nickname – he hadn't used it in years, but suddenly Annabeth's mind flashed back through all of the time they'd known each other: that first year, from irritation to grudging acceptance; then, over the summer, building that trust that they would never let go. She remembered awkward dances and desperate kisses; tension and trust and budding love; a final battle followed by a first real kiss, the idea of building something permanent, something to _last_ –

"Sorry," said Percy to Piper, but in that moment Annabeth frankly couldn't care less. "I had to do that."

"How could a daughter of Aphrodite not approve?" Piper's face was filled with joy, and Annabeth thanked the gods that they were friends. "You're a great boyfriend."

Woefully inadequate though those words might be, Annabeth wholeheartedly agreed. She couldn't even imagine what her life would have been if Percy hadn't stumbled half-conscious onto Half-Blood Hill all those years ago.

She gasped for air, realizing she'd forgotten to breathe again, and tried to pull herself together. "Anyway." She was almost disappointed at how fast that weak-kneed feeling went away – especially because it meant that the fear was coming back. "We're beneath the Erechtheion. It's a temple to both Athena and Poseidon. The Parthenon should be diagonally to the southeast of here. We'll need to sneak around the perimeter and disable as many siege weapons as we can, make an approach path for the _Argo II_."

Piper looked skeptical. "It's broad daylight. How will we go unnoticed?"

Annabeth was so relieved to see others turning to her – and to be able to help them – again. "That's why I made a plan with Frank and Hazel." She glanced up, looking for the sign of Frank. "Hopefully – ah." And there he was, dots of bees swarming above. "Look. Say hi to Frank, everybody."

Piper waved up at the bees, and Annabeth smiled. The smile faded, though, as she noticed a faint noise in the distance. Chanting. This was not good. She sent a silent plea to Hazel to hurry up.

"How does that even work?" Percy looked a little weirded out. "Like . . . one bee is a finger? Two are his eyes?"

"I don't know." As a daughter of Athena, Annabeth's natural curiosity was sparked – but she knew there was no time for it now. "But he's our go-between. As soon as he gives Hazel the word, she will" –

And there it was. She smothered Percy's cry as quickly as she could.

"Hazel's Mist." Piper winced at her appearance.

"Wow, Annabeth," said Percy, scanning her. "I'm really glad I kissed you before you changed."

"Thanks a lot." She wasn't offended, but she did like to tease her boyfriend. "We should get going. I'll move clockwise around the perimeter. Piper, you move counterclockwise. Percy, you scout the middle" –

"Wait." Percy stopped her with a hand on her arm. "We're walking right into the whole blood-spilling sacrifice trap we've been warned about, and you want to split up _even more_?"

"We'll cover more ground that way," Annabeth insisted. "We have to hurry." The chanting rang louder in her ears. "That chanting . . ."

"Right," said Piper, turning to go. "We'll meet up at the giant's throne."

As she turned to walk away, Annabeth held on to Percy. "Wait a second," she said. "Percy . . . I have a secret plan that I didn't tell Piper."

"Of course you do." He laughed a little. "Should I be nervous?"

"Honestly? A little." She bit her lip. "I just – you know we're not the best fighters these days. We just . . . we can't take a chance that we won't break down."

Percy tensed up. "We can" –

"Stop, Seaweed Brain." Annabeth couldn't believe she was saying this. "Now is not the time for pride. We have to realize that right now, Piper is more capable than either of us are. So our job – even if it means the sacrifice trap – is to distract them from her, okay? If we both lose it, she's our only chance."

"Right." Percy's face was grim; he nodded. "Protect Piper."

"Yeah." Despite his awful, Earthborn-ugly appearance, Annabeth leaned in and kissed him. "I love you, Seaweed Brain. Go take out some siege engines for me."

"Uh duh," he replied.

Annabeth laughed, and headed off.

...

She was glad she was fast. She'd excelled in sprinting training with the nymphs, and she was a faster runner than the others on the Argo II, with quicker reflexes. She suspected her years of training in knife fighting had something to do with it, but it didn't matter why at this moment – all that mattered was that she do as much damage as she could, as quickly as she could.

She snuck up behind groups of Earthborn and slashed through them, taking them out before they could cry out and raise the alarm – before they could even turn around. She disabled siege machines, either by cutting the catapult ropes, filling them with unstable Greek fire, or tampering with their machinery so that they faced the wrong way and would blow up in the faces of those who fired them.

But it all went wrong when she saw the _empousa._

Hatred boiled up in her, overwhelmed her. She remembered being attacked by them in Tartarus, remembered the icy pain of talons slicing her, remembered realizing intensely that she had _no weapon to fight them with_, remembered seeing Percy downed, bleeding, remembered Bob coming in to save them.

Oh gods. _Bob._

No! She shook herself out of it. There was no time for this. She ran for the _empousa_, and attacked.

It wasn't Kelli, but it might as well have been.

As soon as the demon cheerleader turned on her, Annabeth's mind glitched, and her Mist disguise melted away. She forgot that she was out in the open. She forgot that she had a weapon. She forgot that she was able to fight back.

She narrowly avoided dying when not-Kelli lunged. Her arm seemed to work without her thinking; her sword whipped up, slicing the _empousa_ shallowly across the chest.

The _empousa_ screamed, and Annabeth knew the game was up.

Within minutes she was surrounded. The only good thing about the arrival of the monsters was that they distracted her from her memories. She gripped her sword tighter and fought as hard as she could, determined to take out as many monsters as she could to leave Piper and Percy fewer to fight, but they overwhelmed her quickly. Her sword fell to the ground – _no!_ She was weaponless again, she was weaponless and surrounded by enemies, and Percy wasn't there, he had abandoned her –

She froze up. By the time she remembered where she was, Periboia literally had her by the scruff of the neck, cutting off most of her air supply. She tried not to, but she let out a choked gasp, fighting to breathe, trying not to remember the way Akhlys' poison had sucked the air out of her lungs –

Unfortunately, Percy was close enough to hear, and stupidly loyal enough to run to her defense. He tumbled between the feet of one giant, slashing Riptide across his ankle, and rolled forward, making his way toward Periboia and Annabeth. But the giants began to close around him, forming a circle.

He dodged a giant's strike, so that the fist hit the ground with a loud _boom_. But it was Enceladus. Annabeth knew a bit about the way Enceladus thought, and she watched in despair as Percy ran right into the giant's trap. The other massive hand wrapped around him and raised him into the air, and the giants roared.

Despite her lungs, which couldn't seem to suck in enough air, Annabeth managed to lock eyes with Percy. _Remember the plan_, she communicated. Percy knew her well enough to know what she was saying. _Pretend it's just us._

He nodded to show he understood, and pretended to slump in defeat.

Annabeth couldn't act. She was too busy making sure she could breathe. But the giants closed ranks, celebrating, and she closed her eyes briefly in relief. They didn't know Piper was there. Her plan had worked.

"Right on time!" shouted Porphyrion with glee. "The blood of Olympus to raise the Earth Mother!"

Annabeth couldn't help it. Even after everything, she was afraid of death. But at the same time, she was relieved. Her plan had worked – they didn't know Piper was there. That meant that the Argo II could come without interference, that maybe Piper could pull something else with her intuition, that somehow, they could be saved.

And even if not, at least the rest of the crew would survive. She and Percy would die together. If they were going down, at least it was like that.

"They arrived just as you foresaw, Enceladus," praised Porphyrion. "Well done."

Despite herself, Annabeth's hubris fought that remark. Enceladus was her mortal enemy. She hated having him praised, especially for strategy.

"It was simple, my king." Annabeth gritted her teeth. She hated him for so many reasons – for what he stood for, for what he was doing, for his awful false modesty, for _the fact that he was holding Percy_ – "I knew these two would lead the assault. I understand how they think. Athena and Poseidon . . . they were just like these children! They both came here thinking to claim this city. Their arrogance has undone them!"

If she'd been able to breathe, Annabeth would have laughed. The giant had been outfoxed after all. By playing _to_ his plan, even if accidentally, their group been one move ahead of him the whole time. And by bringing Piper, they'd thrown a wrench into the whole thing.

Her mother, if not for everything, would have been proud of her.

As Periboia's free hand reached for her knife, Annabeth's mind raced. What to say . . . something to distract them . . .

She opened her mouth – if nothing else, she could distract them by praising her mother, denouncing them, shaking their self-esteem. That always worked. But before she could do anything, Periboia shook her hard.

Her brain rattled. Her teeth snapped down on her tongue. And it was all she could do to breathe. The possibility of talking vanished. She could barely hear what the giantess was saying. But she could feel it when she drew her knife.

"Let me do the honors, Father!" she begged.

"Wait, Daughter – the sacrifice must be done properly. Thoon, destroyer of the Fates, come forward."

When the giant approached, Annabeth was paralyzed with terror. Anyone who could destroy the Fates, the most powerful deities Annabeth had ever known . . . and he was holding a giant knife, looking at her . . .

Percy's yell snapped her out of it. A fountain of water exploded – but it was too far away to do any good, and Percy was still helpless in Enceladus's fist. But that was okay. They had to buy as much time as they could, and that would help. Also, Annabeth was thinking now. Though close to helpless, she could at least –

"You'll have to do better than that, son of Poseidon." Annabeth's nerves tensed, hearing the king talk to Percy like that. She felt hatred burn through her veins. "The earth is too powerful here. Even your father wouldn't be able to summon more than a salty spring. But never fear. The only liquid we require from you is your blood!"

The hatred in Annabeth rose to an unbearable pitch. How _dare_ they talk to Percy like that? With all the breath she could get, she let out a strangled yell – quickly cut off as Periboia shook her yet again.

Thoon knelt, touched his knife to the earth. He spoke, but Annabeth's fear spiked, making all his words blur together. All her focus was on the knife, watching it closely. If she could see the angle, maybe –

"We bring you to full wakefulness!" boomed Thoon's voice. "We greet you as our eternal mistress!"

As he rose, Annabeth kept her eyes on the knife.

Suddenly, though, an Earthborn flew through the air, landing right besides Thoon's arm. A new blade flew upwards – a celestial bronze blade. It slashed upwards, and Thoon's knife – along with his hand – thudded to the ground.

And then Piper stood there, small but brave, in the midst of the giants.

Annabeth wanted to cry. Piper should have stayed hidden – should have waited for the rest of the Argo II! Together, they would have had a much better chance –

"What is this?" roared Porphyrion. "How dare this weak, useless creature interrupt?"

Despite everything, Annabeth almost smiled. If they thought Piper was weak and useless, they had another think coming.

And Piper charged.

She hurled Katoptris as hard as she could. Annabeth herself had taught Piper knife-fighting – she watched in pride as the knife embedded itself in Enceladus's forehead and he howled. His hand opened, and Percy dropped and rolled, Riptide springing to life in his hand.

He was free. Now Annabeth just had to escape.

Unfortunately, the way Periboia was holding her made it hard to do anything. She reached up for her neck and jabbed her fingers into the crack under Periboia's nails, the most sensitive place she could find. The giantess squeaked in pain, but shook Annabeth again, so that her arms flailed uselessly.

"I think not, demigod!" Periboia boomed, and Annabeth came back to herself in time to see Piper running towards her. "This one bleeds!"

Then Annabeth's eyes were only on the knife. She watched the angle, calculated – it was coming at her middle. So if she could just get her legs high enough –

"Miss!" cried Piper, her charmspeak so strong it almost distracted Annabeth. But she kept her mind sharp, focused, and at the last second, she _kicked._

Bending double at the waist, trusting the giantess to keep holding her, Annabeth jerked her lower body as high as she could in one massive yank. The knife sailed by, and for a moment she thought she was fine – but then pain streaked across the back of her leg, icy and burning at the same time. She let out a cry, but her yell was muffled by Periboia's. The knife had gone right under Annabeth and landed firmly in the giantess's palm.

That was all the warning Annabeth got before she was falling.

She kept her legs up, ignoring the searing pain in her thigh. Tucking her chin to her chest, Annabeth made herself into a ball. She hit the ground and rolled – and felt her own blood soak into her shirt.

And if it was on her shirt, that meant it was on the ground, too.

_No._

But there was no time to concentrate on that. Now was time to stay alive. Piper was running towards her to cover her. Annabeth scanned the ground desperately for her sword. If she could get to that – and she could barely stand, but if she could just keep dragging herself, keep moving, it'd be harder for them to hit her.

Her sword was nowhere in sight. But she did see Periboia's hunting knife lying on the ground, wet with blood – both Annabeth's and the giantess's.

She dragged herself towards it. She heard yells above her, dimly – Percy and Piper and giants. But she couldn't pay attention. She needed a weapon.

But then she had the feeling.

She'd had the feeling many times before, most vividly in one of the battles with Kronos. This feeling was one she _always_ trusted, and was _always _right about. It was the _Percy's-in-danger_ feeling.

She looked up just in time to see Porphyrion smack him with so much power that he flew. Actually _flew_, gaining momentum, and then smashing _hard_ into a column.

For a moment, there was desperation. She remembered seeing him as a corpse in Tartarus, remembered his green eyes sunken in his zombie-like face, remembered his hair dried out and skin pasty as though it were about to fall apart.

She saw him dead every night in her dreams – but this couldn't be it. He couldn't be dead now – it couldn't end like this – the gods knew they deserved their happy ending –

And then the anger kicked in.

It lent Annabeth strength. Porphyrion's words to the giants, "Remember who you are!" weren't supposed to, but they encouraged her.

She was Annabeth Chase. She was a daughter of Athena. And she would go down fighting if she had to.

She grabbed the hunting knife and rose to her feet – unsteady, but prepared. Across the courtyard she saw Percy struggle to rise, too, and relief washed over her.

The giants weren't looking at her – they didn't see her as a threat. They were all focused on Piper. As long as her crazy, _wonderful_ friend didn't get herself killed, Annabeth could use that.

"Come on, then!" Piper's voice held no trace of charmspeak, and it was more powerful for that. "I'll destroy you all myself if I have to!"

"The thing is," came the voice from overhead, "you don't have to."

And then deus ex machina arrived.


	7. Chapter 7

Deus ex machina meant "the god from the machine," in dramatic language – describing a deity descending from a stage machine in a spectacular and unexpected save – and although this wasn't quite a god, it had the machine part down. The Argo II descended from the sky above, and four more demigods – and a magic horse – joined the fray.

The distraction of the arrival was just what Annabeth needed. It was a moment of elation, enough to snap her into the moment and make her forget the pain. Adrenaline kicked in, fierce and sudden, a surge of bloodlust. The hunting knife was like a sword in Annabeth's hand, with the balance of knife that she'd missed. She imagined her own blood on the blade as a stimulant, keeping her going, and she lunged at Periboia and engaged her.

She danced along that line between attacking and defending that children of Athena were always so good at walking. She wanted to move, so that she could find her own sword again, but she needed to keep Periboia occupied so she wouldn't attack anyone else. Besides, Annabeth owed this giantess, if nothing else, frustration.

She ducked and dodged, and every time the giantess seemed to be losing interest, Annabeth darted forward to jab Periboia's own knife into her leg or thigh. She couldn't kill her yet, not without the help of a god, so she led her on a chase, instead, distracting her.

But soon enough, as everything did, the high wore off. Without that initial surge of adrenaline, Annabeth's mind started overanalyzing again, and the fear began to take over. She couldn't find her sword, and if she couldn't find it, she was going to lose that last reminder of Bob and Damasen. And she'd promised to keep their memories alive.

She faltered, and Periboia's sword scored a thin line across the front of her already-wounded leg. It buckled, and then she remembered Tartarus again, remembered limping along the sides of rock faces –

_No. Focus._ If she lost it right now, she was dead.

But wasn't she already? She was losing ground, and there was only so much time one could buy. Slowly she felt herself being forced back, into a circle with the other demigods, all of whom were losing. They couldn't defeat these giants without the help of the gods, and apparently all Annabeth's mother was good for was sending her daughters on death quests that caused them to mess up their ankles and rescue ancient statues and _fall into the depths of Tartarus_ –

The thought didn't even make her angry anymore. It just made her hopeless. She faltered, and knew the others were doing the same.

They didn't have the energy to fight anymore. They didn't have the energy for any of this anymore.

There was an explosion – Annabeth whipped her head to the side. The Argo II was on fire. It slowly began to fall out of the sky.

"Leo!" shouted Jason.

"You demigods have learned nothing," chuckled Porphyrion. "There are no gods to aid you. We need only one more thing from you to make our victory complete."

Annabeth understood first. She followed his gaze to Percy – watched the blood trickling down his face. She couldn't say anything – she knew in her heart that it was too late.

"Gods, no," she whispered, watching as a drop of blood trickled off of Percy's chin and fell to the ground, waking the Earth Mother.

For a moment everything stood still. Despair fell hard onto Annabeth's shoulders, almost knocking her over. All of it – one little drop of blood, and all of it was hopeless.

And then came the second instance of deus ex machina – and this time, it had the god part covered.

...

The sky opened up above them, and the chariots descended. All of the Olympian gods rode out of the sky and into the battle. Nike spilled out of the Argo II's stable to join Zeus's side, yelling the call of victory. Annabeth's lip curled at Hera's peacock-drawn chariot. Hephaestus dropped onto the Argo II with Leo and immediately began working at the controls. Hermes flew down on his little winged shoes. But –

Annabeth's vision tunneled.

In the midst of the Olympians, riding a chariot drawn by a large gray owl, was her mother.

_Her mother_: Athena, not Minerva. Her mother, with her dark hair flying and her gray eyes sharper than ever. Her mother, with her mind restored and her grace and strength in battle unmatched –

Her mother, who leaped out of the sky and landed right beside her.

In that moment, something passed between them. An understanding, maybe. Annabeth's bitterness faded to background noise. Her fears were pushed to the back of her mind. Her thoughts became clearer and sharper than ever before.

She'd never fought alongside her mother before. But their eyes met once – gray to gray – and Annabeth knew what to do.

Their target was obvious. Enceladus had turned to face them, too – but Annabeth could see in his eyes that he knew he was in way over his head. He could barely hold his own against one master strategist. Now he was up against two.

Annabeth charged first. Time slowed down as she ran – she could calculate perfectly the angle at which he reached for her, and she dodged before his hand even came close. His other hand tried to grab her where she dodged – but he'd used that trap on Percy already. She wouldn't fall for it. Swinging her arm, she slashed with Periboia's knife where she knew his hand would be. He wailed as the tips of his fingers were sliced off, and she dove between his legs as her mother drove her spear into the giant's thigh.

As she rose to her feet, Annabeth noticed the metal scaffolding. That would be delicate under a giant's weight . . . it would render him helpless, at least for a moment. She locked eyes with her mother once more, and Athena nodded at her.

Thrusting Aegis at Enceladus's face, Athena pushed him back. He was only a few steps away from the scaffolding – and Annabeth knew how to get him there.

She ran at him, not even stumbling on her bad leg, and leaped. Pushing off from his leg, she fisted her hands in his shirt and climbed. He made a grab for her but Athena thrust her spear at him, distracting him, and Annabeth pulled herself unimpeded onto his shoulder and then leaped for his hair.

She caught a strand, held onto it like a rope, and let her full weight fall onto it.

"ARGH!" he screamed, swatting at his head. Annabeth could do nothing but ride the hair – and as he staggered backward, she let go, using his momentum to swing herself back to her mother's side.

As she fell through the air, time slowed again. She could see everything – the exact location of the objects around her. She knew her velocity, her acceleration. She knew where the ground was – and as she approached it, she tucked her limbs in and rolled for all she was worth.

She surged to her feet in time to see Enceladus fall, off-balance from her yank on his hair, into the scaffolding. The whole structure fell, collapsing onto him, and he roared in pain from beneath the metal.

For the first time, Athena spoke. "My daughter. Would you like to do the honors?"

In some deep part of her, Annabeth accepted that this was all the apology she was going to get. And maybe later she could be bitter, later she could be angry –

But for now, all she could do was grin in satisfaction. "Yes," she said savagely, "I would."

She ran forward, until she was directly in front of Enceladus. With all the anger she felt at him – for what he'd done to Percy, for his arrogance in thinking he could ever outthink her – she climbed his body until she was standing on his nose, with her weapon aimed directly at his eye.

He groaned, dazed, and opened his eyes just in time – she drove her sword down with all her strength. When he dissolved into dust, Annabeth thought _good riddance._

She turned to her mother, and the two shared one more glance. Then Annabeth heard the spraying of water and turned.

Percy and Poseidon were fighting side by side, and Otus and Ephialtes stood no chance.

Percy spotted her, and his eyes lit up. For the first time in so long, he really seemed alive, calm, _functioning._ And so did Annabeth.

On the ground before her, she spotted her drakon bone sword, and scooped it up. It felt right in her hands, and she felt another surge of energy. For Damasen, she thought. For Bob.

Instead of crushing her, the thought gave her strength.

A part of her, deep down, recognized that this high level of function was only temporary. Part of her knew that soon enough this blessing – or whatever it was – would fade away. But that part of her was deep in the back of her mind. The rest of her was ready now – ready to milk this for all it was worth.

So she searched for another target – another giant. Her eyes locked on Thoon, who was close to death at the hands of the Fates. They just needed the touch of a demigod – and Annabeth was happy to oblige.

She turned to them, and attacked.

...

When the dust had cleared, the prickliness returned.

Annabeth gazed at the assembled gods, their acting like normal humans, Zeus, so arrogant, so sure of himself; Hera, acting like she knew everything, like she could take credit for everything; _Athena_, who hadn't even looked at Annabeth since their fight –

Anger welled up inside her again. Okay, so maybe they'd been incapacitated with split-personality disorder. But now they were better – thanks to the Seven, and Reyna and Nico and Coach Hedge. The Athena Parthenos – the statue that _Annabeth_ had gone through so much to rescue – was what had reunited them. And there was barely a thank-you to be heard. And _no one_ apologized.

Not even Athena.

They were just so entitled! They thought they knew best about everything, and they thought that they – they –

Ugh. Annabeth slid her hand into Percy's and turned to meet his eyes. She could see her own anger and hurt mirrored in his. Gods standing here, deciding they couldn't do anything, because they were just too _important_ to do their own dirty work –

Okay, so maybe that wasn't what they were saying. But at this point, it all sounded the same to Annabeth.

She remembered Tartarus. _Oh, I'll kill you myself! It'll be an honor!_

Uh huh. Right.

Why did the gods always make them their pawns?

She wasn't stupid. She wasn't about to go Luke, because she knew that all in all, the gods were better than the Titans, better than the giants or Gaea would be. She knew that the gods had stitched together the fabric of civilization as she knew it; knew that no mortal – or even demigod – deserved to live in a world without the gods.

But she was still so angry at the gods, and their inability to keep promises, their almost complete lack of compassion for heroes, their seeming inability to admit their mistakes –

Perhaps sensing her irritation, or maybe simply sharing it, Percy squeezed Annabeth's hand tighter.

"I could slap you back to Long Island," Zeus offered, and Annabeth practically growled aloud. After all they'd done, all they'd waited for, all they were going to get was Zeus literally _smacking_ them across the sea to do more fighting that _he_ should be doing. She didn't care if it was a prophecy. She and Rachel had had long discussions on the topic - prophecies weren't supposed to limit what people could do: they were just supposed to make sure that no matter what people did, everything turned out the way it was supposed to in the end.

_Rachel._ She remembered writing a note, burning it in a brazier, hoping that it would get to camp because it was all that could be done –

Gods of Olympus, why wouldn't it get out of her head?

Jason was the first to speak. "Um, was that a joke, or a threat, or" –

"No," interrupted Zeus. "I mean it quite literally. I could slap your ship back to Camp Half-Blood, but the force involved . . ."

Annabeth pictured the mechanics of the ship. The force involved would disintegrate it, tear the ship apart, or cause it to collapse in on itself. It was tremendously dangerous. But hey – these days, Annabeth was an expert on tremendously dangerous.

She shivered.

Hephaestus looked skeptical. "My boy Leo built a good ship, but it won't sustain that kind of stress. It would break apart as soon as it arrived, maybe sooner."

Annabeth, seeing Hephaestus, remembered Mimas. _Breaker of the well-oiled machine._ She wondered if that encounter with him had been a sign that they should do this. If he'd proven to her that sometimes things broke, and you just had to learn to adapt to it –

It was probably going to take her awhile to internalize that lesson. She flinched again; Percy put his other hand on her shoulder.

"The _Argo II_ can make it." Annabeth wondered if Leo's confidence would be their downfall. That had happened to her once, after all – had quite _literally_ brought about her downfall. And Percy's, too. "It only has to stay in one piece long enough to get us back home. Once there, we can abandon ship."

"Dangerous." Hephaestus didn't look as confident as Leo did. "Perhaps fatal."

_Thanks for caring._ Annabeth bit back the words. _Like you cared when we – _

No.

"Victory is always dangerous," Nike chimed in. "And it often requires sacrifice. Leo Valdez and I have discussed this."

Annabeth didn't like that. But at the same time, she wondered if Leo's confidence came from something he wasn't telling them. If he had some sort of plan up his sleeve. "Leo, what is Nike talking about?"

"The usual." Leo waved a hand carelessly. "Victory, sacrifice, blah blah blah. Doesn't matter. We can do this, guys – we have to do this."

There was definitely something going on. Annabeth didn't like this at all. She remembered holding Percy as he died of gorgon's blood poison in her arms. She remembered watching Jason's wound smoke and bleed. She remembered leaving Bob and Damasen behind at the Doors of Death.

She'd had enough of sacrifice. Enough of death.

And yet there was still another battle to come.

She was so tired. So very, very tired. But there was no choice.

"Leo's right," said Jason. "All aboard for one last trip."

...

Things went fast from there. Annabeth, Leo, Hephaestus, and Athena scanned the ship, figured out where and how best to secure them so that they wouldn't all be lost in space and disintegrated. Leo whipped out some of his harnesses, and tied himself to the control console so that he could still work the ship. Jason stayed near Leo, so he could use his control of the winds to help. Frank, Hazel, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper stayed deeper within the ship, so that they would be less disoriented when they arrived.

Then Zeus tossed them up into the air and smacked them hard.

Annabeth almost blacked out from the force. She held tight to Percy's hand, squeezing it hard to remember that she wasn't alone.

When the initial force faded, Annabeth came back to herself a little – enough to remember what they were doing. "Frank!" she yelled. "The rope!"

He looked dizzy and sick, but he grabbed for the rope and pulled. Annabeth undid her straps quickly, rushing to the others and starting to help. She was the fastest with her hands, untying and unraveling until all of them were ready.

They stumbled out on deck, where the ship was falling apart. Jason and Leo were desperately trying to hold it together, but it was no use. They had to abandon ship.

"Go!" yelled Leo. "Go, go, _go_!"

But for a moment, they were all still – dazed, lightheaded.

Then came Coach Hedge's voice. "LET'S GO! MOVE IT! CUT THAT OUT!"

Buford the flying table took flight, his Coach Hedge holograph still screaming at them, and they all snapped back to attention. Frank transformed, grabbing Percy, Annabeth, and Hazel. Jason wrapped his arms around Piper.

Annabeth looked at the disintegrating ship, hoping Leo really did know what he was doing – but soon enough, Frank was flying, and she was focused on what they were doing.

They soared above the battle scene – Annabeth's heart lifted at the sight of Reyna yelling orders, holding her sword high. Her purple cloak seemed to shimmer with power.

"Hazel!" yelled Jason off to the side. "Those three cohorts are in trouble! If they don't merge with the rest of the demigods" –

"On it!" called Hazel. Annabeth could barely hear her voice; it was whipped away by the wind. "Go, Frank!"

"Let's get 'em!" yelled Annabeth, feeling bloodlust rise up in her. But perhaps it was a residual blessing from her mother, because she no longer felt tired. She was ready to channel that rage into a battle. Everything in her head went crystal clear.

Off to her side, Percy's idea of a battle cry was, "I hate flying!"

Dork.

Frank opened his claws when they were just a bit above the cohorts. Annabeth hit the ground in a roll – how many times had she had to do that already today? – and came up with her drakon-bone blade bright, slicing and hacking. She and Percy were back to back, clearing an area of monsters. They fought together almost as easily as she and her mother had, reading one another's bodies. Thoughts passed between them easily, silent communication.

She and Percy were perfect partners. She thought and he relied on instinct. Together, they filled in all the empty spaces.

They organized themselves around the three cohorts, each taking one. Hazel was off to the left – she and Arion had reunited, and her spatha blazed a golden path of death. Percy took the one in the middle, and the Romans cheered to see him fight. Annabeth went off to the right, and although they didn't really know her, the Romans opened up ranks and took her in.

Frank was at the head of all three cohorts. He led with a pride and confidence that Annabeth had never seen in him before, and she felt her heart swell with pride. He barreled forward, switching form seamlessly between human and animal, stabbing and charging alternately.

With them, the cohorts seemed to take new heart. They drove the monsters back until there was only a crowd of centaurs separating them from the rest of the legion and from – Annabeth's heart seized – Camp Half-Blood.

"_Repellere equites_!" yelled Frank, and the Romans, Percy, and Annabeth charged the centaurs. The monsters parted before them, and they ran through towards the legion.

"_Ave_, Praetor Zhang!" cried Reyna as they approached.

"_Ave_, Praetor Ramirez-Arellano!" responded Frank. The Romans seemed to do a tiny double take at the fact that Frank was their praetor now, but they were too disciplined to let that shake them. They followed him anyway. "Let's do this. Legion, CLOSE RANKS!"

As good as the Romans were, Annabeth knew that this wasn't where she belonged. She found Percy in the crowd as the legion melded together; she tugged on his wrist and pulled him to the side.

As Reyna called, "Legion, _cuneum formate! _ Advance!" Percy and Annabeth ran to the nearest group of demigods they saw – the forces of Camp Half-Blood.

And there they were – Malcolm and Clarisse and Tyson and _Grover_ and Katie Gardner and – Annabeth and Percy ran for them, hands interlocked, and joined them. A huge cheer rose up – the campers, beautiful in their disorganization, yelled their names. Grover, despite the fighting, hurled himself on Percy and hugged him so hard that Percy stumbled backwards, but returned the hug with equal fervor.

His eyes fell on Annabeth, and she could see that they were bright with happiness. They were back where they belonged.

"Greeks," yelled Percy, in his second wonderful attempt at a battle cry, "Let's, um, fight stuff!"

He was _such_ a dork – but the Greeks thrived on it. Another yell went up, and they threw themselves into the battle.

"Annabeth!" cried Grover. Using the distraction, he ran over and squeezed her until she thought her ribs would crack.

She had to blink back tears as she pulled away, ruffling his hair. His horns had grown in the last month. "Grover!" she said back. "I missed you!"

Then Malcolm was upon her; stabbing a centaur with his right hand, he gave her a one-armed squeeze with his left. She kissed him on the cheek, feeling energized and more powerful than ever before. Sure, it was nice to have an entrance by the gods, but being reunited with her friends was better any day.

But of course, the high couldn't last. Everyone froze; cold began to spread through the air. Annabeth's mind immediately flashed back to Tartarus; she tried to yank herself back into the present. And then it happened.

The earth rose up beneath them, churning and rolling. _"AWAKE,_" came Gaea's voice, and she began to rise.

Why did Annabeth keep having to fight evil god-things after walking around on their bodies?

"_Little fools._" The goddess opened her eyes, and instinctively Annabeth reached for Percy. It was like Tartarus again – fighting the spirit of the pit – "_The paltry magic of your statue cannot contain me._"

Just like gods' magic wasn't enough, neither were Titans or giants. Bob. Damasen. Who would be next? Fear washed over Annabeth – part of it engineered by Gaea, the other part all her own. Who else would she have to watch die? Or would it be all of them? They would be massacred here. They couldn't stand against her.

"Stand fast!" cried Piper. "Greeks and Romans, we can fight her together!"

But for once, her charmspeak had no effect on Annabeth. The memories – the fears – were stronger.

Gaea laughed, and the earth became soft. Annabeth started to sink, but she was frozen – too locked in her own mind to pull herself out. "_The whole earth is my body. How would you fight the goddess of_" –

And then Festus the dragon swooped down and grabbed Gaea off the hill, carrying her into the sky.

What was it with deus ex machina these days?

...

The earth was solid again; Annabeth clawed at the dirt around her, trying to move. She hated feeling helpless, had felt enough of it over the last few days –

Off to the side, she could see Jason grab Piper around the waist. They were talking to Frank and Hazel and Percy –

With a last burst of strength, Annabeth yanked her legs out of the ground. Around her, the rest of her camp was fighting to do the same. But they were about to be overwhelmed – monsters were coming – she was helpless –

_Percy_.

"Hey!" she yelled, knowing that her voice would get his attention. "Problem over here!"

He turned immediately, ran toward them. Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth saw Jason and Piper take off into the sky.

For the next few minutes, she was a machine. There was no more adrenaline, there was no more fear. There was only drudgery – the knowledge that it was never going to end, that she was always just going to be here, fighting –

She and Percy were back to back again. Soon Clarisse and Malcolm came to join them and they formed a four-pointed star, with blades as points. Together, they created a circle of death. The other demigods drove the monsters to them, and they destroyed them.

It wasn't anything anymore. It was just work.

She couldn't pay attention to what was happening in the sky. She had to trust that Leo had a plan, and that it would work. She had to trust, and to keep fighting.

That was, until the sky erupted in fire.

...

A lot of things happened at once.

The air became so hot Annabeth's whole face dried and cracked, just as it had on the banks of the Phlegethon. She grabbed Percy's hand and he reached for hers at the same moment.

All the demigods stumbled and fell to their knees. But that was nothing compared to the monsters.

They let out a massive shriek, as one. All those that were left immediately stood, turned, and ran. Arrows from the Roman archers and the Apollo kids cut them down as they disappeared.

Two eagles swooped over Annabeth's head, grabbing two dark figures from the sky. Piper and Jason. Bits and pieces of metal rained down. But not enough to constitute Festus the dragon. And there was no third body.

Leo was nowhere to be found.

For a moment, everything was silent. The eagles set Jason and Piper gently down on the ground. Everyone stared.

But the silence stretched out. The earth remained solid. Nothing happened.

And then the cheering started.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm a little nervous about this one, because I know you wanted a lot of these from the book and didn't get them, so I hope this lives up to your expectations.**

**...**

To no one's surprise more than his own, the first thing Percy did when he came to his senses was to throw himself on Clarisse.

He didn't know why he did it; they'd never gotten along even without Percy's rivalry with her dad. But despite their frenemy relationship, he realized that he'd missed her more than he'd ever imagined he would. And it had been so long that he no longer cared about holding onto his pride.

He hit her so hard she let out a grunt and almost fell backwards. For a second she brandished her spear, as though she thought she were being attacked, but then she seemed to realize exactly what was happening.

"Such a loser, Jackson," she muttered, but she put her arms around him tentatively and hugged him back.

"Good to see you, too, La Rue," he responded, grinning despite that fact that she was still taller than he was. Who cared about that sort of thing anymore, anyway?

Then she pushed him away from her, held him by the shoulders, and shook him. He felt his brain rattle around a little in his head, but he couldn't stop smiling. "Jackson, you punk," she snarled, "you better not disappear again. Do you realize how annoying it was to not have you here? There was not one other person competent enough to spar with me! Even Miss Princess over here was always holding out on me. Too busy building ships, or something."

She gestured to Annabeth, who was smirking. "Sorry I was too busy trying to save the world to spar with you, Clarisse," she said. "We can rectify that situation right now, if you want." She held up her drakon bone sword.

Clarisse's eyes widened; she let go of Percy's shoulders – he stumbled for a moment, free of her grip – and pulled Annabeth into a rough hug as well. "Where'd you get a weapon like that, Chase?"

Annabeth choked up; Percy could hear it in her voice when she spoke. "From a very, very good friend."

She let go of Clarisse, stepping back and slipping her hand into his. He didn't even have to look to find it – it was an instinct now. Even when everything else felt like it was collapsing around them, knowing that the other was there made everything feel a little steadier. It was something they both could count on.

He squeezed Annabeth's hand, turning back to Clarisse. "Well, Clarisse, I'm sorry for disappearing. I'll ask Hera to take _you_ next time."

"Shut up, you punk." Clarisse hit him hard on the shoulder.

Even despite the Damasen reference earlier, he couldn't stop smiling. It felt too good. "Right back at you."

Then Grover was there, running towards them, and Clarisse was forgotten. They'd seen each other briefly during the battle, but – it wasn't enough. "Grover!" Percy reached out for his best friend, and pulled him in. Grover hugged him tightly; Percy could hear him sniffling.

"Perrrrrcy!" he bleated. He stepped back, looked at Percy one more time, and lunged forward to hug him again. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you, too, G-man." Percy almost cried, too. He'd had no contact with Grover – aside from one dream in which he couldn't remember his best friend's name – for eight months. That was too much time. "I'm so glad to be back."

Annabeth joined them, then, throwing her arms around both of them. The three of them were back together, the three that had started it all. Locked in an embrace, they stood there for what felt like hours, all of them tearing up and all of them ready to deny it to anyone who asked.

Then, for no reason that he could pinpoint, Percy started laughing. Then Grover joined in, and Annabeth, and they broke apart and dropped to the ground so that they were all just sitting together, smeared in blood and dirt and sweat, shaking with laughter and tears. Annabeth grabbed both of their hands and held them tight. "It is _so_ good to be back together again."

Then, a familiar voice broke in. "Hey, hey, hey. What about me?"

"Rachel!" Percy didn't even remember standing up, but suddenly he was on his feet and his arms were wrapped around Rachel, one of his hands pounding her on the back, and his face buried in her wild red hair. "Rachel Elizabeth Dare, bet you didn't see this one coming!"

She pulled back and scowled at him. "Is that a jab about the whole Oracle-not-working thing? Because I will have you know that I am brilliant no matter what." She laughed before he could say anything, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. "I didn't need the Oracle, Percy. I always knew you were going to come back."

"Whoa, whoa," Annabeth interrupted, pushing in between them. "What about me, Dare? Where's the love?"

Rachel grinned, throwing an arm around Annabeth's shoulders. Her green eyes gleamed with laughter. "Oh, I never even entertained the _thought_ of doubting you. Come on, Chase. You're too good. You know I know that."

Annabeth laughed, and hugged her. At that moment, Percy decided never to worry about the two of them disliking one another. He had the feeling that together, they were an even greater threat.

"Besides." Rachel's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Annabeth at least made _contact_ with me. She sent me a letter! From Tartarus! Trapped in the depths of Tartarus, and she was thinking about me, even then." She fake-sniffled, wiping away imaginary tears.

The way she mentioned it so casually threw Percy off guard – he could see that Annabeth was a little shell-shocked, too – but Rachel excelled at bringing up hard topics in a way that made them seem less scary than they really were. Besides, she was talking again, not leaving him time to think about what she'd said – she always did have that talent. "And what about you, Jackson? How come I didn't get any letters from you?" She started in on a rant. "You disappear off the face of the earth for six months, and then I don't get anything? No write. No call. No cheesy postcards from Rome. Not even a hey-Rachel-how's-it-going-I-remember-that-part-where-you're-my-friend-and" –

Percy hugged her again, cutting her off. He'd missed having Rachel yell at him. And she had apparently missed doing the yelling.

After a moment, he noticed that Annabeth had wandered off. She was standing off to the side, talking to Reyna. They both looked very serious, and he thought he could see Annabeth's face crumple. But Reyna reached a hand out across the distance between them, and Annabeth took it. Then she yanked, and she and Reyna were embracing, too.

Percy smiled. Those two were alike in many ways. Smart, strong, and occasionally terrifying. That was another combination that he would have to beware.

"Rachel," he said, turning to her, "why is my girlfriend so scary?"

She grinned wickedly at him. "Because she's Annabeth," she replied simply. "You should know that by now. And I'm definitely not protecting you from her, so you'd better get used to it, buddy."

He nodded. She was right. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

...

**I know what you ****_really_**** want - but don't worry; it's coming up!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, this is another that I know a ****_lot_**** of hopes are riding on, so I hope this lives up to them.**

...

Two days later, after the celebrations ended and the Romans started packing up to go, Annabeth and Percy hitched a ride with Argus into town.

Even after all these months, Percy knew where to go. Annabeth held his hand as they strolled down the sidewalk. She limped slightly; her jeans rubbed uncomfortably against the bandages on her right leg. After the battle, she'd gone to have her wounds healed, but they'd been too deep and left for too long (oh, and contaminated with dirt and monster dust) to be healed quickly. They were going to scar, but Annabeth was far past caring about her physical scars. It was the mental and emotional ones that ran deeper.

Leo hadn't been seen in the last few days, and they'd pretty much accepted that he wouldn't be. It was . . . it was weird. When they'd first met, he'd annoyed Annabeth to no end . . . but at the same time, his stupid sense of humor and easy impertinence had reminded her a little bit of Percy. Because of that, she'd always had a little soft spot for him, no matter how irritating he was.

Not only that, she and Leo had made a great team – often working together through some sort of strange mutual understanding. They hadn't _talked_ all that often – no deep, revealing conversations – but somehow that easy silence and the hum of machines and ideas had formed a bond between them that neither of them could really explain.

And somehow – somehow, though she'd known there would be casualties before the war ended, she'd never really imagined that it would be Leo.

But Hazel and Frank had said that it was his plan. And it fit with what Nike had said – that he'd always been planning to sacrifice himself. And Nico and Hazel had pretty much confirmed that he – that he wasn't coming back.

The last few days had been so busy that Annabeth hadn't had time to rest, really – hadn't had time to think about what had changed and what would be different now. The last two nights she hadn't slept in her cabin – the first night she'd stayed up so late talking and catching up with Rachel that she'd crashed in the cave, sharing Rachel's queen-sized bed. The second night she, Piper, and Reyna had slept in the Romans' camp, really getting to know one another the way they hadn't had the chance to before.

Now, she steeled herself to sleep in the Athena cabin, alone in a bed with nothing but dreams to keep her company. On the Argo II she'd been able to stave off nightmares by staying awake, sitting at her desk and either designing buildings or mapping out battle plans. In the Athena cabin, she would no longer be alone, and Percy would no longer be just down the hall. Annabeth wasn't sure what she would do about sleeping – or not, as the case may be.

Despite – or because of – everything that had happened, she was glad it was over. At least, she hoped it was. The day before, Reyna and Frank had approached her and asked her to be an official advisor and strategist for New Rome. They set up a day and time for a weekly Iris-message meeting – hopefully now that the split-personality disorder was over and the gods were calm, Iris-messages would be working.

Next to her, Percy froze, jerking her out of her thoughts. She looked up – the destination was almost as familiar to her as it was to him.

The apartment building where Sally Jackson and Paul Blofis lived.

Percy twisted his hands in his shirt. It was blue, Annabeth noticed – Percy was obviously hoping for the comfort that blue always provided him.

"Why so nervous, Seaweed Brain?" she asked. "She's going to be overjoyed to see you."

"I – I know." Percy's voice was thick with sadness and guilt. "But I – I didn't see her for months. I didn't even – I haven't even heard her voice in so long. I don't" –

"It'll be fine," Annabeth promised him. She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and reached out to hit the buzzer.

When Sally opened the door, her mouth dropped open.

She stared from one to the other for a moment, and Annabeth wondered exactly what she was seeing. She wondered if Sally was noticing every new scar on their bodies, every change in their features. She wondered if Sally could see the difference in their eyes, knew what they had experienced.

Probably Sally Jackson was amazing enough to do that.

"Percy" – she choked out – and then he was in her arms.

Annabeth stood to the side, a little uncomfortable but mostly incredibly happy. She was so relieved that she'd been able to do this for Sally – that she'd been able to bring her son back to her.

They were both crying, and neither of them cared. Sally sobbed openly; Percy's head was buried in his mother's neck, but his shoulders were shaking.

"What - ?"

Annabeth turned towards the voice; Paul Blofis had come shuffling out of the bedroom, still in a bathrobe and slippers. Their eyes locked. "Annabeth?" he asked. "And" –

Then he seemed to understand. He let out a little gasp, and Percy looked up. He and Paul locked eyes.

And then Paul was in the huddle, too, and the three of them were reunited. Seeing them there together – Annabeth couldn't stop smiling.

Then Sally's arm snaked out and pulled Annabeth in, and they were all locked in an eight-armed embrace. Annabeth had no idea where her arms even were, but she didn't care. She just held on.

"Mom" – Percy pulled back. His eyes were red; his voice cracked. "Mom, I love you. I missed you so much."

"_Percy_" – She kissed the top of his head. "Percy, my little boy – I love you, too. I missed you – I was going crazy with worry! I got your letters – and your phone message – but they didn't say enough. Tel me what happened. What did you do? Where all did you go?"

Annabeth locked eyes with Percy. A message passed between them. _Did you tell her about Tartarus in your letters?_

He shook his head.

She raised her eyebrows at him. _You have to. We have to._

He inclined his head. _Okay._

She widened her eyes, indicating that she would speak first. He nodded in agreement.

"Sally," she said, "I – we have to tell you something."

Sally snapped her head around to look at Annabeth. Her eyes were soft. "Okay," she said. "How about we go into the living room, and sit down. I'll see if we have anything to eat."

She bustled into the kitchen, wiping her eyes as she went. Paul ushered Annabeth and Percy into the other room. They sat on the couch; Paul sank into his armchair.

Annabeth noticed that Percy's eyes were scanning the area, taking in his home. His lip trembled; she laced her fingers through his and squeezed.

"Percy" – Paul's voice was husky; he cleared his throat and started again. "Percy, you have no idea how glad we are to see you again. Your mom was going out of her mind the whole time you were gone."

Percy winced. "I know, Paul, I'm sorry. Believe me, it wasn't my choice. Please tell Mom she's welcome to join the People-Who-Want-to-Yell-at-Hera Club."

Annabeth raised their joined hands into the air. "I'm the president," she volunteered, and Paul laughed.

"Annabeth, you, too," he said. "It's good to see you here, too – safe and sound."

"Thanks." Annabeth's cheeks warmed up. Sometimes she really didn't know what to do with herself when people said things like that to her.

Sally came into the room with a pot of hot chocolate and some mugs. Her eyes were puffier than they had been before, but happier than Annabeth had seen them in a long time. She squeezed onto the couch beside Percy, wrapping her arm around him and holding him close. "So tell us," she said. "Where exactly did you go?"

So Percy told her about waking up at the Wolf House with Lupa, and then journeying to Camp Jupiter, chased by gorgons. He told her about his quest with Frank and Hazel, and going to Alaska to fight a giant. He told about the reunion with the others, and their journey to Rome.

Then Annabeth picked up the story. She felt herself tensing, because she knew she was about to explain _to Percy's mother_ how she had dragged him into Tartarus. Guilt started to swell up inside her, and she couldn't meet Sally's eyes.

"Sally," she said, "you remember the last time I came to visit you before we left?"

"Of course."

Annabeth couldn't tear her eyes away from her lap. "So on my way back, at the subway station, I ran into my mom. But she wasn't my mom. It was Minerva. And she was . . . she was acting strangely."

She recounted the whole disturbing conversation, all the information about the Mark of Athena, and the solo quest she'd been asked to complete. She talked about finding the map, figuring out she had to rescue the Athena Parthenos, traveling beneath the dark Roman caverns, pursued by spiders –

Her voice broke off. She swallowed, and kept studying her knees.

"It was Arachne, wasn't it?" asked Sally, her voice soft.

Annabeth gulped back a sob. "Yeah. And I tricked her – I trapped her, and I was going to wait until the others came and rescued the statue. But I – but I" –

Percy squeezed her hand. He'd promised her he didn't blame her, but she couldn't help blaming herself.

"I – I taunted her. I told her I'd outsmarted her, told her I was going to rescue the statue. I did the same thing Odysseus did, that caused him to be lost at sea. And I – I" –

"What happened, Annabeth?"

"Next to where we were, there was a pit." Annabeth choked on the next words. "A pit that led to Tartarus. And I – Arachne attacked me with silk, and even though she was trapped, she could have killed me, but then – then the others showed up, and she fell into Tartarus, and she – and she – she'd attached some silk to my ankle, and I didn't realize it, and she – and she" –

Her voice died. How could she tell Sally this?

The silence expanded; she finally had no choice but to finish. "She dragged me down with her."

Before she could explain what Percy had done, Sally had placed her fingers on her chin and tilted her face up. Her eyes were incredibly kind, and very sad. "Percy went in after you, didn't he?" she said.

"Yes!" Annabeth burst out. "He did! And I'm so sorry, Sally, I'm so sorry I dragged your son into Tartarus, it's my fault, all my stupid pride" –

"Hang on," interrupted Percy. "Didn't we go over this already? Didn't I already tell you it wasn't your fault?"

But Annabeth looked at Sally, waiting. Sally's face crumpled again, tears beginning to seep from the corners of her eyes.

Then she leaned across the couch and gathered them both into her arms. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I'm so, so sorry."

"You're not . . . mad at me?" Annabeth tried to wrap her head around that.

"Of course not!" Sally kissed her forehead. "Of course you taunted Arachne. I would have, too, if anyone had put me through something like what you did. And Percy . . ." She turned to smile at him. "Percy did just what any true hero would do. I've taught him well."

Annabeth started to cry in earnest now, and soon they were all wrapped in another many-armed hug, which Paul got up from his chair to join. When they broke apart, Paul squeezed onto the couch with them so that they were all close. Annabeth felt warmth radiating through her.

They didn't talk too much about Tartarus. Only to tell them about Bob and Damasen, and keep their memories alive, as they had promised. They moved on to escaping, moving on, defeating the giants, fighting Gaea on Half-Blood Hill –

"And now we're here," finished Percy. "Hopefully for good this time."

"Oh, it's for good," promised Annabeth. "You're never getting away from me again, Seaweed Brain." She glanced around at Sally and Paul. "From _us_. If Hera kidnaps you again, I will personally march up to Olympus and punch her in the face."

Thunder rumbled. Annabeth glared at the sky. She'd had enough of the gods' interference and entitlement. And they would not dare blast her after everything she'd done for them. "Bring it on, Hera. I don't care anymore."

Sally set her hand on Annabeth's. "It's okay," she said. "You're back, and it's all going to be okay."

...

They spent the morning with Sally and Paul, but they couldn't stay too long. They had to go back to camp, to say goodbye to the Romans and Ella and Tyson. And Rachel. Annabeth and Percy had no idea how she'd managed to get around her dad on that one, but when they'd asked her, she'd just winked and said, "I have my ways."

Annabeth wasn't sure she really wanted to know what those "ways" were.

Back at Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth stuck to Percy's side. Now that they were together, without any missions, fear temples or annoying goddesses to get in the way, she didn't want to split up again.

"What are we going to do this next year?" wondered Percy, as they watched the Romans' SUVs begin to speed away. "Are you going back to San Francisco?"

Annabeth chewed her lip. She hadn't seen her father in a long time – she should at least go see him and tell him that she was okay. But at the same time . . . she knew Percy wouldn't want to leave his mother, and she had no desire to live in San Francisco – at least not for now. Camp Half-Blood was where she belonged.

"I think I'll stay here," she decided. "I've gone to schools in New York before; I can do it again. I mean, I've been thrown around in schools so much that senior year shouldn't matter."

"And then?" Percy looked hopeful. She knew what he was waiting for.

"Well," she said, "I always did plan to go to college."

"College?" Percy looked a little blindsided. Clearly she was going to have to spell it out for him.

"You did say there was one in New Rome, right?"

"Wait. Did you just - ?" A slow grin spread across Percy's face, and then he let out a yell that the Romans could probably still hear, even from however far away they already were.

"Calm down, Seaweed Brain!" She smacked him lightly, but she felt the same way. _Never separated again_. Her heart was singing.

Then, across the commons, a figure made its way toward them. Nico di Angelo.

"Hey, man," said Percy, smiling at him. "Annabeth just told me some good news." He turned to smile at her. "Sorry if I got a little loud."

Annabeth studied Nico. He seemed . . . happier, somehow. Not totally, maybe, but a little bit less restless. As though something in him had been calmed down. "We're going to spend our senior year together, here in New York," she explained. "And after graduation" –

Percy cut her off. "College in New Rome!" His smile grew bigger, if at all possible. "Four years with no monsters to fight, no battles, no stupid prophecies. Just me and Annabeth, getting our degrees, hanging out at cafés, enjoying California" –

He had obviously given this a lot of thought. Annabeth's insides suddenly felt like roasted marshmallows. "And after that . . ." She pressed her lips to his cheek. "Well, Reyna and Frank said we could live in New Rome as long as we like."

She wasn't _so_ sure about that just yet, but she could always spend her summers at Camp Half-Blood. And it might be nice to be near her father. Besides, who knew what might happen between now and then?

"That's great." Nico seemed almost surprised at his words. "I'm staying here, too, at Camp Half-Blood."

"Awesome!" Annabeth could practically feel Percy's relief. She knew he had been worried about Nico – so had she. But now, maybe, they could spend some time getting to know him better. _Really_ getting to know him.

"So, since we're going to be spending at least a year seeing each other at camp," Nico hesitated, and then plowed on, "I think I should clear the air."

Annabeth held her breath. Something was coming. She could sense – maybe she'd started learning from Piper after all – she knew that Nico was about to tell them whatever it was that he hadn't been saying.

"For a long time, I had a crush on you." Nico's eyes were focused right on Percy. "I just wanted you to know."

The shock hit Annabeth like cold water. Percy. Nico . . . had had a crush on Percy. So that meant . . .

_Oh._

Suddenly, everything began to fall into place. The pieces crashed together, and the whole thing finally made sense.

Clearly, Percy wasn't feeling the same understanding. "You" –

"Yeah." Nico didn't seem thrown off. "You're a great person. But I'm over that. I'm happy for you guys."

Annabeth kept her eyes on Nico's, and she could see that he was telling the truth. For some reason, instead of being angry, or possessive, she felt _relieved_.

Now that she knew, she understood Nico di Angelo better than she ever had before. And she could empathize. Who wouldn't have a crush on Percy, after all?

"You . . . so you mean . . ."

Percy apparently wasn't as far along as she was.

"Right."

Annabeth felt a smile creep onto her face. If Nico was able to admit it, then he was telling the truth. He had moved on from whatever he had felt for Percy – and was ready to get to know them as true friends.

Percy was still floundering. "Wait, so you mean" –

"Right. But it's cool. We're cool. I mean, I see now . . . you're cute, but you're not my type."

At that, Annabeth almost started laughing. She got the feeling that getting to know Nico di Angelo was going to be fun.

"I'm not your type." Percy's face was a mixture of confused, shocked, and - was he _offended?_ "Wait. So" –

Nico wasn't interested in waiting. "See you around, Percy," he said. "Annabeth." He turned to her, and their eyes met. She felt an understanding pass between them, and her smile widened.

She held up her hand, wanting to make sure Nico understood that she didn't begrudge him at all. That, in fact, she was excited to get to know him.

He seemed to understand. He slapped her hand in a high five, giving her a tiny smile in return.

Then he turned and walked away, and Percy turned to Annabeth.

"So, you mean, Nico" –

"Yes, Seaweed Brain." She rolled her eyes, but pulled him in for a kiss.

When they broke apart, his eyes focused on her face. "If that was supposed to make me less confused, it didn't work," he informed her.

"So you mean you really didn't understand?" She gave him a teasing smile. "Seemed pretty clear to me."

"Give me a break!" he protested. "I'm in shock right now, okay? How are you handling this so calmly?"

"It cleared up a lot of things for me, actually." She smiled at him. "You're okay with it, right?"

"Nico liking guys?" He looked confused. "Or Nico liking me?"

"Both. Either." She shrugged. "But he doesn't like you anymore, so you better not start pursuing him." She kissed him again. "From now on, you're all mine."

He wrapped his arms around her; she sank into his embrace, feeling safer than ever. No matter what happened, as long as they were together they'd be all right.

"Yeah," he whispered into her hair. "I am. And I am so okay with that."

**...**

**So this is it for BoO. I'm considering having this be it for this story, because I've finished with everything that was in the book. But at the same time, I'm not totally ready to let go of this universe and my personal headcanons just yet. So if you want me to continue it, leave a review and (if possible) a prompt for another story. I may write it, or I may not (depends on if life gets in the way or not), but if you send me ideas I'm more likely to write more than to not. And even if you just want to discuss headcanons and BoO or Percy Jackson in general, I'm always willing to talk.**

**Thanks so much for reading this.**


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